The Sword of Light
by Lord Talon
Summary: As their Sixth year at Hogwarts begins, Harry and his friends face a deadly new threat.Even with the help of a new ally,do they have any hope of surviving? AU, preHBP. HarryGinny, RonHermione
1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter and The Sword of Light.

Chapter 1: A Sinister Night.

The night air held a chill that was foreign in late July, even in the Russian steppes, deep within the forbidding plains of Siberia. He could not feel it, however, nor did he notice the lack of insect sounds, or the crunch his booted feet made as he slowly marched toward an ancient building, far in the distance.

He heard nothing, he felt nothing except bliss. Slowly, ever slowly he advanced, until he passed what seemed to be a section of a large snake writhing on the brown grass, just passed a subtle line on the parched ground. His eyes glanced downward, and wondered about the piece of a serpent for just a moment, before the bliss returned, and he continued his march forward.

After what seemed to be an eternity of joy, though it was just one hundred yards of absentminded walking, he came upon yet another faint line I the turf, and upon crossing it, he noticed a rather large lump on the ground, covered in a dark cloth. Rather curious, he stepped over to the strange mass, and kneeling down, pulled back what turned out to be the hood to a robe.What he discovered beneath caused him to fall into a seated position, as he jumped backward.

It was a human being, or at least it had been at one time in the recent past. It was sprawled out on it's stomach, head turned to the side, exposing a face that was as still as the evening had been, but contorted by rage and pain. His heart pumping wildly, he jumped up and began to scream, but a small voice in the back of his mind called back to him, coaxing him to rejoin it in paradise. Trusting the voice, he rejoined it, blissfully marching forward and leaving the corpse to the night.

The ancient structure loomed closer and closer as he ecstatically walked into the still Russian night. Soon, an acrid stench assailed his nostrils, causing him to feel sick to his stomach despite how happy and uncaring he felt. He quickly approached a smoldering pile , urged on faster by the Voice. Yet another line appeared in the grass, just over which lay the source of the stench. Crossing the line, his head seemed to clear a bit. The memory of the smell slammed into him like a ton of stone, one that he had hoped never to experience again, bringing forth the horrors he wished to forget.

It was the Reek of Death, the same he remembered from his time in war torn areas. The putrid, sickly odor mixed in with the heavy scent of melted fabric was more than his stomach could handle, despite the distant joy he felt in the back of his mind. No matter what he experienced in his long forgotten life, it was too much and he became ill, and needed to wait a few minutes before turning once again to the distant building.

The sight of the place left him with a strange feeling of déjà vu'. It was feeling of dread mixed in the with the familiar. He had to understand why he felt that way, this nagging in the pit of his stomach. Something deep inside was urging him forward to discover the answer. The urging in his mind grew stronger, as did the feeling of dread deep within his chest.

His curiosity got the better of him, however, and he realized that he needed to see what was within the forbidding structure. Walking slowly at first, the voice in the back of his head kept telling to go faster and faster. He broke into a run, until suddenly, he was there! He looked up, his jaw agape in wonder and dread.

Before him stood two wooden doors that were so dark that they appeared to have been carved from solid night. Illuminated by the light of the full moon, he saw that wooden figure were carved upon the door that were so realistic and lifelike that he could have sworn that they were alive and motioning to him. Peering even closer, the little figures looked a lot like elves and gnomes, all pointing in his direction, and seeming to try to wave him back away from the door. They mouthed silent protests at him as he slowly reached for one of the huge iron rings that hung from the doors at shoulder level.

As soon as he touched the metal, he pulled his hand back as if he had been bitten by a snake. It was hot! This was unbelievable, he thought to himself. Stepping back a few paces, he looked around for any signs of recent habitation.

The windows were filthy, and sealed by a thick layer of grim. Touching the glass, he felt no heat radiating from inside. Craning his neck, he looked up at the roof, and saw absolutely no smoke rising up from the chimneys. The fireplaces were obviously not the source of the heat emanating from the ring.

His eyes seemed to still be playing tricks on him, however. He spotted movement along the edges and corners of the roof, or at least he thought he had. He knew that there were stone gargoyles up there, it can't be them, they couldn't move. Could they? Before the questions could properly plant themselves within his mind, the nagging came to the surface again, beckoning him to step up, once more, to the doors. He had to know what was inside this great place.

Once more, he stood before the great ebon doors, and grasped the huge iron ring. The heat returned, and grew more intense the longer he held on. His instincts screamed at him to release it, but he ignored them, his need to know overrode his common sense. All the graven images on the doors screamed in silent protests, frantically waving and gesturing to him to stop, but these, too, he ignored.

The door refused to budge, as he pulled on the ring with all his might. He was getting to the point to where he was about to give up, the effort and pain was too great, when the voice came back once more. It chided him as a coward, and telling him that he was unworthy of the reward that awaited him on the other side of the portal.

This caused something deep inside to arise and meet the challenge. He renewed his efforts with vigor, putting every single ounce of strength he possessed into the cause. Veins popped out on his face and neck as he threw his entire body into the effort. The tiny voice continued urging him on, calling him very vile things to get him to keep going and never stop.

**CRACK!!!**

With a sound like that of a close strike of lightning, the door suddenly gave way, slowly opening on it's huge, rusted iron hinges. As the doors parted, a blast of hot, fetid air issued forth from the widening black fissure, swiftly followed by a steady stream of ice cold vapor that raised goose bumps on the exposed flesh of his arms.

He released the iron ring with great difficulty, as his hand was severely burned from the prolonged touch of the ring, but he felt no pain, for the nerves were completely destroyed. Nor would he have noticed if they had still functioned, for the sight before him left him totally stunned.

The door revealed a void to pure black, the only other color even present was the white of the mists that continued to stream out into the nighttime air. He had a sense of foreboding, telling not to step any closer, as if he had an extreme fear of the dark. However, the voice in the back of his head was screaming at him to step over the threshold, while what seemed like a thousand tortured voices in the wind warned him to hold his ground.

His curiosity, and the voice in his mind, won out, and he stepped across, not knowing or seeing what awaited him on the other side. It was like stepping into a completely alien world, but it was a leap of faith, and he prayed no harm would come to him. Engulfed in total darkness, his faith was rewarded, and suddenly, there was light!!

It took several moments for his night eyesight to clear, the sudden illumination had temporarily blinded his night adjusted eyes. When his eyesight cleared, so did his mind, as he looked upon what was before him.  
The huge expanse before him brought forth a flood of memories, now unbidden and unwanted.

His name was Mikhail Raimius, Father Mikhail Raimius to be exact, and he was standing in the one place on Earth that he had sworn he never would set foot ever again. It was the Cathedral of St. Godric, and it was all that was left of the Monastery where he had spent most of his life. It, alone, had survived the attack that had leveled the monastery over twenty years ago, and had killed most of the monks.

Mikhail realized he was holding his breath, and scolded himself as a novice. Slowly, he released it, and started breathing as normally as he could under the circumstances. Something had caused him to return to this cursed place, and he was curious to know what it was.

Cautiously, he moved forward, as he glanced around the familiar surroundings. With the exception of a thick layer of dust, it was exactly as he remembered. Rows upon rows of roughly hewn pews stood before him, forming a wide aisle down the middle of the huge chapel. This lead to the raised platform, upon which stood the alter.

Moving further down the aisle, he stared at the altar, the center piece and focal point of the entire place. It stood about three feet tall, and was covered with a blood red velvet cloth, trimmed with a gold border, and bearing golden griffins at the corners. It colors were somewhat muted by the accumulated dust of twenty years, but was stirring none the less.

A golden brazier rested upon altar, holding a blazing fire that lit up not just the area around the alter, but the chorale area and the bishop's pew, which stood about twenty feet away. He marveled at the sight, when something finally clicked in Mikhail's mind.

It was lit! He spun on his heels and stared at the ceiling, all the braziers were lit! Every single golden dish, hanging by huge chains suspended from the thick timbers that supported the roof, contained a blazing fire! This was the source of the light that had blinded him when he first walked in, but they were not lit when he first opened the doors. This brought a fresh flood of memories to the surface. He remembered why he never wished to return here.

Bishop Ivanov had called him back from his missionary work in a war torn area of Eastern Europe with an urgent summons. This had suited Father Raimius just fine, for he had seen more than his share of death and misery in the five years he had been posted in what was referred to by the residents as " Hades' Prep School". What had puzzled him, however, was the urgency of the summons. He immediately set off for Siberia.

He had arrived too late, it seemed. The monastery and all the outlying structures were burning, the only place undamaged was the cathedral. Dead brothers were scattered about, most of which had smoking patches in their chests, while a few showed no obvious sign of death, only a look of sheer terror etched forevermore upon their still faces. Even his years on the outside had not prepared him for this. He had thought of their little outpost as a safe, secure home. Why would anyone do these things? The brothers had meant no harm to anyone.

Seeing that the Cathedral was undamaged, he hoped and prayed that some of the brotherhood had sequestered themselves inside, as a safe haven. Mikhail sprinted the remaining distance to the chapel, tore the huge doors open with an ease he never had before, and ran inside, hoping to see some life within.

He was sorely disappointed. The only one within the chapel was Bishop Ivanov, and he was in poor shape. Laying on the floor, blood thickly coating the side of his face, the bishop looked up to see who had come in, and relief quickly spread on his face. Mikhail ran over and knelt on the ground, cradling the dying monk as the bishop desperately told Mikhail as much as he could before he passed away.

Mikhail tried to comfort the old man, to get him to relax and wait for help, but Ivanov was adamant. He told Mikhail that the monastery had been attacked by dark forces, and it was imperative that Mikhail follow his instructions, else Darkness would overtake Mankind. He told Mikhail to take his staff over to the Bishop's Pew, and insert the staff into the hole he would find in the floor behind it. Mikhail agreed to do so if Ivanov would rest and try to save his strength. The bishop just nodded his head.

He stood up, after laying Ivanov into a more comfortable position, and walked over to where the staff was lying on the marble floor. After picking it up, he walked back over to Ivanov to show him that he was doing as he was asked to. Mikhail stopped short. Bishop Ivanov was lying quite still, his eyes open and unfocused, and his chest no longer heaving for breath. Mikhail cursed softly under his breath, and went over and said a prayer to St. Godric to look over the soul of his departed friend.

Mikhail was standing in the spot where his friend died twenty years ago. It was also the same spot that had changed his life forever. Turning to his right, he walked over to the Bishop's Pew, looked behind it, and saw the staff exactly where he had left it that horrible evening. Half of it had sank into the floor, where it was quite impossible to ever pull it out again, it had actually seemed to become one with the floor. The sight brought a new memory, one of pain and betrayal.

When he had inserted the staff into the hole, several things happened. The top of the pew flipped open, revealing a book, inscribed on the cover the words _'Read Me'_. As he touched the book, as searing pain coursed through both of his forearms, and what felt like a heavy weight pressed down upon his neck. He pulled his hands back, and tore back his sleeves to see what was wrong. He had two smoking scars, one on each forearm. The one on his left arm was the shape of a griffin, exactly like the ones adorning the alter cloth. The other, on his right, was of two swords crossing behind a shield. After a moment or two, the smoking stopped, as did the searing pain.

Mikhail noticed the weight around his neck, and reaching up, felt the cold metal of a chain. He opened his shirt, revealing a golden medallion that rested on his breastbone. It was the same one he remembered Bishop Ivanov always wearing. Mikhail tried to remove it from his neck, but it would not budge. He crossed back over to his dead friend and saw that that Ivanov's medallion was gone. Next, he pulled back the bishop's sleeves, revealing identical scars to the ones he now wore.

Totally bewildered, Mikhail once more walked over to the pew and touched the book, this time without the corresponding pain he had received earlier. He opened the cover, and was almost knocked from his feet by the waves of sheer force that seemed to pour from the bound pages. Blood chilling screams came from nearby, raising the hair on the back of his neck. Mikhail started reading, and didn't stop until the book was finished, several hours later.

Mikhail looked up from the book, his mouth agape in astonishment, and tears streaming from his eyes. He could not believe what he had just read. Turning the book back over, he started re-reading it. Over the next several days, he read the book as many times as he could, still not wanting to believe what was in it's pages. It seemed that everything he had been taught his whole life, starting from the age of five when he first joined the monastery, was a total lie. It was the ultimate betrayal. Now, it was up to him to keep the secrets, to pass them on to the next generation, and protect mankind from darkness.

It was too much for him to handle. After a week in the Cathedral, Mikhail cautiously stepped, once more, into the outside world. He ran. He ran for years, looking over his shoulder, wondering if the person seated next to him knew about the secret, wondering if he was in mortal danger from the shadows that played in cities in late afternoon. He was, literally, too scared to stop.

Mikhail turned once more toward the altar. He thought about how silly he had been in those days, trying to hide from an enemy that had never come. It wasn't until the past few years that he finally realized that the unseen enemy didn't even want him, they wanted what was inside the cathedral, and it was the cathedral they were focusing on. He had gotten on with his life, starting a small church in a small town, and opening a home for the local orphans. He had a small flock, but he didn't really wish for anything larger. He was happy and content. He had even been interviewed by a magazine that wished to know about his early days, and about……..

A pain shot through his head, and he shook it to try to will it away. What he really needed to do now was to ensure that what was hidden was removed and hidden again in a safer location. To that end, Mikhail walked over to the altar, carefully removed the hot brazier, then tore back the alter cloth. Before him stood a rather large block of wood, apparently carved from the same type of wood as the doors, and covered in what appeared to be Norse Runes. It had two holes, both about twelve inches in diameter, and eighteen inches apart, in the side facing him.

Since the knowledge had been burned into his brain so very long ago, Mikhail knew exactly what to do. Kneeling, he stuck an arm into each hole and waited. He didn't have to wait long. The runes surrounding the altar started to glow with a fiery light, and with a growling sound, a smaller block of wood arose from the center of the altar. It, too, was covered in runes, and had a small, circular depression on top.

Mikhail gritted his teeth a bit before removing his arms from the altar. After doing so, he looked down and saw the scars had been scoured from his flesh, leaving a large, raw patch on each arm. No matter, he thought to himself. He then heard a clicking noise, and the chain around his neck shattered into a thousand fragments. The golden medallion fell into his one remaining good hand. Standing back up, he placed the medallion, face down, into the hollow carved upon the smaller block.

The runes covering the smaller block started to glow with a bright blue inner light. Mikhail stood back as the block started to sink back into the altar block. As it drew flush with the top of the altar, there was a deep rumbling that seemed to come from every point in the room, then, with a large, resounding crash, the front of the altar fell forward and shattered into a myriad of pieces. Jumping back a bit from the sound of the noise, Mikhail walked back toward the altar, only to notice that his medallion had actually melted and burned its way through the altar. Shaking his head, he walked around and stepped down from the platform that held the altar, watching his step so as not to trip over the large fragments that now covered the floor before him.

Finally, he looked into the hollow area the front of the altar had revealed when it fell. Within it lay a large, golden cylinder, about four feet long and ten inches in diameter, covered in yet more runes. He cautiously reached in, not knowing what to expect, and gently pulled the cylinder from it's long time resting place. Much to his surprise, it was very light, and very easy to move. He pulled it to his chest, and started inspecting it. It was totally covered in runes, except in one little spot that contained a slot, reminiscent of a keyhole. He puzzled over this for just the briefest of moments, then slowly turned back toward the door, without a second glance to his surroundings, and marched out. Now that he had the package, he would never return to this place, if he had anything to say about it.

When he re-crossed the threshold, the nagging came back to him, urging him to make as much haste as he could, away from the Cathedral. He had barely gone twenty paces when he felt heat blaze up behind him, but he kept on walking. He never saw that the cathedral had burst into flames the moment he had left the building, and the flames were now spreading rapidly through the ancient wood. The further he walked, the less he seemed to care about anything, he only felt peace and bliss. He didn't even care who he was any longer, he only knew that he had to keep walking.

Finally, he reached the line in the turf that he had crossed first earlier in the night. He no longer knew who he was, nor did he care. Before him stood ten figures, all dressed in black, hooded robes, huddled in a tight mass just beyond the line, encircling yet another robed figure. He crossed the line, and there was suddenly movement from the group.

" Master, the Muggle has returned with the package," called out the shortest, most rotund figure in the group. The figure in the middle turned toward the speaker.

"Yes, Wormtail, this I can see! Do you think me blind?" the tall figure sneered back at one called Wormtail. "Go and retrieve it!"

At this the Wormtail bowed and scurried away from the group toward Mikhail. He reached up and tried to take the package from Father Raimius, but Mikhail's arms remained locked around the cylinder, something deep within was refusing to let go.

Growing angry, Wormtail growled," Give that to me, Muggle!" as his arm shot out from under his robes and struck a backhanded blow to Mikhail's face. This blow was powerful enough to knock Mikhail down, causing him to drop the cylinder at Wormtail's feet. He landed on his back about five feet away, totally stunned. Wormtail just looked down at his silver hand, grinned, then bent over to pick up the cylinder. He ran swiftly over to his master and presented him with it.

" Excellent!" hissed the voice of Wormtail's master, "most excellent, indeed!" He slowly turned the cylinder over and over, reading the runic covering, until he noticed the slot. " It seems we need a key. The Muggle must have it, search him!"

Mikhail shook his head, as the fog finally seemed to lift from his consciousness. Rubbing his aching jaw, he slowly sat up and spotted the robed figures before him. He froze on the spot. It seems they had finally found him. " What are you doing with that?" he yelled out in surprise as he saw what the taller figure was holding, " You must not touch it!"

Mikhail jumped to his feet and charged the crowd, catching all of them by surprise. Well, almost all. The figure holding the cylinder reached out from under his robes and pointed a small stick at Mikhail. A small jet of red flame shot out of the end, raced across the short distance between them, and struck Mikhail squarely in the legs. He hit the ground, his legs no longer functioning, and cascades of Hellfire were sending ripples of intense pain throughout his body. Father Raimius heard screaming, and realized that it was himself.

" Wormtail, you fool!" screamed his master, "You have broken the curse!" He pointed the stick at Wormtail and fired yet another jet of red flame, striking Wormtail directly in the chest. Wormtail fell to the ground and screamed in agony.

" Master, please forgive me!"

" Silence, fool! Lord Voldemort neither forgives, nor forgets! Lie there and suffer in silence!" Voldemort turned back toward Mikhail, red eyes glowing from under his hood. "Tell me, Muggle, where is the key?" Mikhail responded by calling Voldemort a very nasty name. His followers stirred and tried to charge forward, but Voldemort held them back.

"Hold, I say! We still have need of this scum! Now," he turned back to Mikhail, " Where is the key? I shall not ask again!"

Mikhail slowly sat back up, his legs were still numb, but the cascading fire in the rest of his body had slackened. He focused on the one called Voldemort. "There is no key."

A angry hiss escaped from under the hood, and Voldemort's followers had become angry yet again. Voldemort pointed at him yet again, but he was interrupted by Mikhail.

" We merely watched over the artifact, or at least we did. What is inside was a mystery to us, we only knew that we were to protect it."

"You lie," replied Voldemort, in his strange, hissing voice. "The key must be in the cathedral! Where is the medallion you wore around your neck?" he demanded.

"It is still in the altar," Mikhail replied, motioning over his shoulder. He took a quick glance behind himself, and finally saw the roaring bonfire that used to be the Cathedral. "Oh dear lord!"

One of the hooded followers broke from the pack and headed toward the cathedral, "I shall go retrieve it, milord!"

"No, you fool!" cried out Voldemort," Come back here this instant!" but it was too late. The very second the hooded figure crossed the line in the turf, it cut loose with a scream that could wake the dead. It doubled over in apparent agony, hit the ground with a resounding thud, and became quite still.

Voldemort strode forward, pointed his wand back at Mikhail and muttered a few words under his breath. Mikhail found himself floating in the air, arms outstretched, and totally unable to move.

"It would have done you no good, you know," Mikhail spat at Voldemort, "The medallion melted when it opened the altar. It is utterly destroyed. There…is…no…key!!…." he sputtered as he felt an invisible hand grip his chest tighter and tighter.

The glowing red eyes studied him for a moment, before Voldemort turned away, placed his wand back within the confines of his robe, and walked back toward the group. Mikhail suddenly felt himself drop and once more fall rather heavily upon the cold hard ground, knocking the breath out of him.

"Unfortunately for us, I do believe you, Muggle," Voldemort called back to Mikhail, " I see naught but the truth in you eyes and mind, about the key, that is. As for the contents of the cylinder, you and I both know what lies within, and that truth frightens you. Don't worry, your fears are not in vain, for all shall fear Lord Voldemort soon!"

Voldemort turned back to speak to the group as Mikhail struggled to get back up to his feet. Wormtail still writhed upon the ground, his gleaming silver hand stuffed between his teeth to prevent sounds from escaping. Voldemort kicked Wormtail in his side as he passed by him.

"You may arise now, Wormtail, and have more care of what you do in the future. I trust this lesson has been properly applied?" Voldemort said in a very condescending tone, to which Wormtail vigorously nodded his head in agreement as he got back up to his feet.

"What shall we do with the Muggle, my Lord?" asked one of Voldemort's followers, in a clearly feminine voice, though one laced with cruelty.

" Come now, Bellatrix, you know exactly what must be done," Voldemort snorted, "He has seen entirely too much, and has thwarted our plans now for many years. He must be dealt with as anyone would deal with a beast that has outlived it's usefulness."

The one called Bellatrix threw back her hood, revealing a face that still showed some of the gauntness the years in Azkaban prison had etched upon her, that the few brief months of freedom had yet to erase. Her black and gray hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, clasped by a small silver skull. Her eyes still burned with her fanatical devotion to Lord Voldemort. With a sinister smile that slightly deformed the large, jagged scar on the left side of her face, she pulled out her wand and proceeded to stalk toward Father Raimius. Voldemort held out a hand, however, to stop her.

" Now, now, Bellatrix, let us not be greedy. As much as I would dearly love to watch you have your particular form of…_amusement_… with this Muggle, we neither have the time nor the luxury to do so," Bellatrix's face fell as Voldemort spoke to her as one would an over excited child, "I, myself, would truly love a chance to play, as well. However, the night is growing short, and I have need to get this home as soon as possible," he said as he patted the cylinder cradled in the crook of his arm.. " Let one of the acolytes have the pleasure this night, and truly join us in our holy cause."

Bellatrix scowled a bit before saying, "We have but one acolyte left, my Lord. The others were used to test the barriers. Even Johann Cestus is dead, sire. It was he who tried to get the key for you."

" Then send the acolyte forward, wench!" Voldemort snapped with venom, and a glare that could melt steel. " Do not question me again!" Bellatrix went pale as she flinched back and covered her scar with one of her hands, She had been on the receiving end of Lord Voldemort's anger before, and had no wish to do so again. She turned and motioned the acolyte forward.

Mikhail had finally gotten back to his feet, all be it on a set of unsteady legs. There seemed to be a lively discussion going on in the group, with it ending as a small figure broke from the circle and walked over toward him. Mikhail wondered if he would be strong enough to overpower the person if he got close enough. Though he was weakened, Mikhail knew more about personal combat that just about anyone else he could think of. Spending years in war zones and on the run can do that to a person. He was pretty sure he could use the person as a hostage to get back the artifact. He readied himself.

However, his luck now was just as it had been earlier in the evening: rotten. The hooded figure stopped a good twelve feet away, too far for him to do anything in the state he was in. He watched as the figure reached up and removed it's hood, revealing the face of a young man. By the light of the raging inferno behind him, Mikhail saw that the young man had a head full of red hair, and a light dusting of freckles. A pair of black, horn rimmed glasses sat upon his nose, but the eyes were not visible due to the reflection of the bonfire's flames. This gave the young man a look that was purely demonic.

Slowly, the young man raised his wand and pointed it directly at Mikhail. He then spoke the last words Mikhail would ever hear in this life.

_"Avada Kedavra!!"_

A jet of sickly green flame leapt from the tip of the young man's wand and quickly crossed the short distance to Mikhail, and struck him squarely in the chest with a bright green flash. Mikhail hit the ground, his eyes lifeless, with a smoking crater in his chest. Father Mikhail Raimius, the last Bishop of the Order of St. Godric, was dead.

The young man smiled to himself as he lowered the wand. He had finally proven himself to his master. Turning back toward the group, he started forward when he felt an intense burning on his forearm. Pulling back his robe's sleeve, he saw what the cause was. The figure of a skull with a serpent protruding from it's mouth was now permanently etched within his flesh. It was the Dark Mark. He had been accepted. Smiling even bigger than before, he returned to the group. As he approached, Lord Voldemort called out to him.

"Yes, yes, very good! Very well done indeed! Was it your first?" commented Lord Voldemort. He knew and understood the power of praise, as well as pain. The proper mixture of the two can create a fanatic that can and will follow every order and command.

"Thank you, My Lord! Yes, it was my first, I had hoped I would be able to do it properly," the young man replied with his sniveling, self important little voice. "I am glad I could be of some use to you, My Lord."

" Indeed you are of some use to me, young one." Voldemort replied in a lordly manner. "Welcome now our newest Death Eater! You now belong to me, body and soul, and with me you shall know such power and rewards the likes of which you never dared dream before. Come now, we must be going."

Bellatrix glowered as Voldemort turned to lead the Death Eaters away. "Oh, how utterly boring! A straight simple death? There was no joy in it! No excitement! No cruelty! What is the point of killing Muggles if there is to be no pleasure in it?" Wormtail just nodded his head in agreement as he slinked behind Voldemort.

" Lord Voldemort was absolutely correct in making his decision," the newest Death Eater told Bellatrix in a very condescending tone of voice." After all, we are in a hurry, and we have no time for useless theatrics. Honestly, I don't understand people like you who are so set in their ways that they refuse to bend in a better direction. If I have said once I have said a hundred times……."

Bellatrix spun around and cut him off, " How dare you lecture me, you post-pubescent slime?! I'll have you know I have served Lord Voldemort since long before you were born! I'll not stand here and be preached to by a newbie as if you were my equal! I have a good mind to reduce you to a quivering pile of jelly on the spot!" she screeched at him.

" That is enough!" bellowed Voldemort as Bellatrix was pulling out her wand to make good her threat. " I shall not have my Death Eaters fighting amongst one another like a pack of Muggles! Nor shall I allow anyone to question the .._entertainment value_.. of my commands! Is this understood?" he hissed as his red eyes locked on Bellatrix. She went a deathly white.

" Yes, My Lord!" all the Death eaters said in unison, bringing a slight smile to Voldemort's face.

" As I expected. Now, before we depart, we do have one last order of business to attend to. Our newest Death Eater has yet to tell us under what name he would like to be known. There has been a bit of concern about his current one. A bit of a stigma, I believe?"

The young man with the red hair came to a stop. He faced Lord Voldemort directly." Thank you, My Lord. Seeing how my family's misfortunes stem from my father's love of all things Muggle, I hereby renounce his name, and shall take up the name of a good, pure blood family. Though there were some misguided individuals on my mother's side who chose to oppose our sacred quest, it is an old wizarding family. From this point on, I wish to be known as Prewett, Percival Prewett."

"A sensible choice, Percival. Indeed, your father has brought shame upon his family name, and you are quite right in abandoning it. Let it be known," Lord Voldemort announced, " that you are a Weasley no longer, but a noble crusader who wishes to restore the name of Prewett to our good graces." Percy smiled even broader than before, and bowed low at the waist to Lord Voldemort.

" Come now, we must be off!" Voldemort commanded, and as one all the Death Eaters vanished with the resounding crack of imploding air. All that was left was a rapidly warming evening, a raging inferno, and a thousand years of shattered dreams.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**:_ Hi folks, I hope ya'll enjoyed chapter one ( if anyone read it all_ :D_ ). Let me tell you a little bit about this story. I wrote it back before HPand HBP was released, and first posted it on Unfortunately, I came down with a severe case of writers block and was deeply depressed, so I never finished it passed Chapter nine. However, I do plan on finishing this story, because we have a LOOOOOOONG way to go. Right now, I've been concentrating on my other two stories posted here on FFN. Ya'll check these out and let me know what you think. Thanks! Lord Talon_

Chapter 2: A Startling Revelation.

The night was still, and entirely too warm. Harry lay upon his bed, wide awake, despite the lateness of the hour. Fatigue had overtaken his body, but his mind continued to race. Despite what Professor Dumbledore had told him, the same thought continued to run though Harry's mind.

_Sirius is dead because of me_.

He had slept very little in the month since he had returned to his Aunt and Uncle's house on Privet Drive. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw his godfather's body fall through the veiled archway within the Department of Mysteries. Though no sound ever left Sirius' lips, and Harry was sure the thought never crossed his mind, Harry could swear that he could hear Sirius blaming him.

Deciding sleep was beyond him, Harry sat up, put on his glasses and stared at the alarm clock on his bedside table. Through the cracked face plate( a result of Dudley not wishing to get up one morning, and smashing it with one of his ham sized fists) he saw that is was just a little after three o'clock in the morning. Still, sleep would not come for him. If he could send an Owl to the Sandman for mercy, he would.

He got up and walked over to his desk that sat by the lone window in his room. The full moon shone brightly, illuminating the large owl cage that dominated it. His large white snow owl, Hedwig, was out hunting, so he quietly lifted the cage from the desk and set it on the floor, so as to not disturb his Uncle, who delighted in dressing Harry down for every perceived noise and slight he could think of. He would call them his family, but they were not. His true family were at their own homes this summer , and he probably would not see them again for a few more weeks yet.

The thought of his friends, Ron and Hermione, caused his chest to start hurting again. They, too, had been hurt in their ill advised assault on the Department of Mysteries. Ron had been attacked by 'killer brains', as he called them, while Hermione took a stunning spell to the chest that dropped her like a sack of bricks. He felt extremely guilty for them getting hurt, but they both assured him that it wasn't his fault, and they harbored him no ill will. Both seemed to go out of their way this summer to write to him, making him feel that much more guilty for not writing back as much.

Knowing that sleep would never come for him this night, Harry sat down to his desk and pulled out some fresh parchment and a quill. He really needed to write to his friends, but every time he tried lately, the words refused to come.

He stared out the window, contemplating the full moon. Harry's thought turned to Remus Lupin, his former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Lupin was a werewolf, bitten back when he was a small child, and an old friend of Harry's father. He hoped that Lupin had taken his potion this night and was resting comfortably.

_It must be a horrible thing, being a werewolf_, Harry thought to himself. _Everyone treats you differently and avoiding you for something that wasn't even your fault. Kind of like the Dursleys, the way they treat me, and just about most people in the wizarding world.  
_  
The Dursleys were Harry's guardians, unfortunately. Aunt Petunia was his mother's sister, and she, her husband Vernon, and son Dudley despised Harry and all things they considered abnormal. To them, wizards were the absolute definition of abnormal. The only reason Harry had to stay with them is that they were all the family he had left, and he was protected by living with them, in a strange sort of way. It had something to do with his mother sacrificing herself to save Harry when he was a baby. This formed a powerful magic that passed through Lilly Potter's bloodline, and unfortunately, Petunia Dursley was the closest one in that bloodline. She and the others treated Harry like he was something that they wiped off their shoes.

As for the wizarding world, they treated Harry in another sort of way. It was in a kind of awe and wonderment. Harry was the only known survivor of the Death Curse. It actually backfired toward the sender when it was fired at Harry when he was just a babe of twelve months or so. The only outward sign of the attack on Harry was his now famous lightning shaped scar.

The attacker just happened to be Tom Riddle, also known as Lord Voldemort. Riddle had terrorized the wizarding world of many years, until his attack on Harry. The reflected curse didn't kill Riddle, but it came close enough. He was left as a specter of a sort. It was many years later that he was actually able to come back in a form that could pose a threat. Harry's guilt returned, because Riddle had actually used Harry's blood to come back.

Riddle had an insane hatred for nonmagical folk (called Muggles by wizards) and those wizards that were descended from such. This hatred stemmed from the fact he was half Muggle, his father leaving his mother before his birth when he discovered she was a witch. His mother died shortly after Tom's birth, causing him to spend his early years in a Muggle orphanage.

After attending Hogwart's School of Wizarding and Witchcraft, Tom hunted his father down and murdered him, as well as his grandparents. His war started then, with a vengeance. He was unstoppable until the night he tried to murder Harry.

Harry's mind came back to the present. He still was unable to put words to paper. He looked once more into the window, this time staring at his reflection. The month was taking it's toll on him. Lack of sleep had not been kind to him, for dark circles had formed around his eyes. His eyes seemed to not be as bright a green as they once had been. His skin was pale, and the oversized clothes that were handed down to him from Dudley fit even less well than before. Having no appetite, he ate very little, which seemed to not bother the Dursleys much at all. He was just a nuisance, wasn't he?  
The jagged scar, his most identifiable feature, stood out even more so against his pale flesh. He looked a right royal mess.

Finally, he addressed the letter to Hermione and started to write about trivial things: the weather, what the classes would be like at Hogwart's this year, the silly stuff Dudley had done, ect. He purposely avoided the topics she brought up in her correspondence, namely, how he was doing. He did add just one more thing before he rolled up the scroll:

"I miss Snuffles"

He noticed that the last little bit of his writing had smeared, and that the page seemed a bit damp. He was so numb that he never noticed that the moisture came from the tears that were streaming down his face and falling on the parchment. He tried to write to Ron next, but it just didn't feel right.

He slowly stood from his chair and looked once more out the window, hoping beyond hope he would see a large black dog sitting out there, waiting for him. Harry's eyes were drawn by a slight movement of a shadow, as it passed across a neighbor's doorway, causing his heart to leap just a bit, before he saw the neighbor's cat bolt into the streetlight's glare. He cursed himself for getting his hopes up.

After a few moments, Harry walked over to furthest corner of his room and sat upon the floor. He crossed his legs and closed his eyes. He started to concentrate, but it seemed once more in vain. Sirius' death was the direct result, in his mind, at least, of Harry's failure to master the obscure art of Occlumency. It is an ancient art of defending one's mind from external penetration, and one that would have prevented Riddle ( Harry refused to call him Voldemort anymore. 'Riddle' was his hated father's name, so much more hurtful to Voldemort.) from planting the idea that Sirius was trapped. Harry continued to try to concentrate, when after about a hour, his head nodded to his chest, he slid sideways and fell into a restless sleep.

Several days had passed after he sent the message to Hermione, and yet there was no response. The Dursleys decided to go on holiday, and left Harry in the care of Mrs. Figg. Mrs. Figg was a strange old lady that Harry had just learned last year was a member of The Order of the Phoenix. She had been secretly looking after Harry since he was a small child on orders from Dumbledore. Though she had no magic of her own( she was a self admitted Squib), she did her job very well. She was the first one to see after Harry when Dementors had attacked he and his oafish cousin Dudley last summer.

Mrs. Figg was beside herself when she saw what condition Harry was in. She immediately started trying to feed him, but he refused most attempts at food, taking in only what was necessary to survive. She and her cats did everything they could to bring his spirits up.

"Please, Harry, try to eat! Here, I've made some Cauldron cakes for you. They're from my grandmother's recipe!"

"No, thank you, Mrs. Figg." Harry replied, "I'm not very hungry right now."

" Harry, you're going to make yourself ill!" she cried in exasperation. " Oh, Albus is going to kill me!"

The day before Harry's sixteenth birthday, The Dursleys returned from their holiday, and brought an unwelcome guest: Vernon's sister, Marge. The last time Harry had seen Marge was when she was floating out of the neighborhood after insulting Harry's parents. He had become quite angry and was unable to control his abilities. She had swollen up like the great blimp she truly was. Harry ran away from the house that night and had seen Sirius for the first time, though Sirius was transformed into a large, black dog at the time.

Uncle Vernon made it very clear that Harry was not to be in the house when Marge was. His face turned an interesting shade of purple when he told Harry what he would do to him if there was a repeat of the last incident. Harry just shrugged and went outside to sit in the garden, as usual. He had spent most of his days there, it seemed. The only time he went indoors much anymore was to try to get a little sleep. They never bothered him. Dudley had made it a point to be nowhere around Harry if he could help it. The aftereffects of the Dementor attack weighed heavily on Dudley. He no longer went out with his school buddies anywhere near evening hours, and his reaction to Harry was mixed. At times he would look at Harry in awe, then just as quick, with horror. It didn't bother Harry very much either way, as long as Dudley and the others would leave him alone, lack of attention is better than abuse any day.

The day had grown quite warm, and Harry sat alone in the garden once more. He had still not received any news from his friends since he had last written to them. Perhaps they were back living in the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, he thought to himself, and they could not chance to write him back.

The sun had began it's slow descent toward the horizon, as evening started to creep into the picture. Harry had been in the garden all day, and was still seated in the dirt, with his back against the hot bricks when something began to creep it's way into his awareness. It was the sounds of footsteps on the sidewalk, and from what he could tell, they were approaching the house. He didn't care, however, it really didn't matter to him. It was probably Aunt Marge coming back from pampering that spoiled little dog of hers, he thought.

Harry heard the sound of voices as they floated around the corner, some of them were raised in alarm. All the voices sounded a bit familiar; still, he was too tired to care. The loud crash of the front door slamming brought Harry a little closer to the here and now, then he heard more footsteps come around the corner, then suddenly stop.

"Harry!" he heard a female voice call out, "Oh my God!!"

"Bloody Hell!" Harry heard another voice, this time male, exclaim.

Harry looked up slowly and saw two young people standing before him. It took him a few seconds to recognize who they were, and this finally brought him around.

"Ron?" he croaked, his voice hoarse from disuse, "Hermione?"

Ron and Hermione were frozen on the spot, Harry's condition had totally stunned them. His skin was sallow, his eyes were dark and sunken, and his hair was more unruly than ever. He looked like Death warmed over.

"Oh, lord, Harry," cried Hermione, huge tears welling up in her eyes as she ran over to him and fell to her knees, "What have they done to you?"

"Nothing," Harry croaked, "They've done nothing at all."

"Yeah, right, sure they haven't!" said Ron sarcastically as he ran over and squatted beside his best friend. "Come on! This is the worst I've ever seen you! Have they been starving you again?"

"Nope," Harry replied slowly turning his head from side to side to face his friends. "It's all my fault. I killed Sirius. It's my fault he died! I'm to blame for you two getting hurt! You should hate me!" he said as he pulled his knees to his chest and buried his head between his arms. He started to cry and let the tears flow unchecked.

"We don't hate you!" said Ron softly. "You're our best friend." he reassured him as he put a hand on Harry's shoulder. A single tear slipped silently down Ron's cheek.

"Harry, it wasn't your fault," Hermione replied, softly yet adamantly, "V-Voldemort is entirely to blame. No one thinks it's your fault!" she added as she wrapped her arms around Harry and held him close. Ron joined in and the three of them sat there for a little while and had a good cry.

Harry seemed to feel a little bit better after sitting with his friends for a while. Ron and Hermione had finally convinced Harry to come out of the garden and to show them around the neighborhood. He had showed them Mrs. Figg's place when Ron noticed something strange.

"That's a weird post," Ron pointed out to Harry.

"Huh? Oh, that one?" Harry replied. "That's been there for as long as I can remember. It's just a regular corner marker."

The post was made of a solid black marble, had eight sides, and stood about three feet out of the ground. It was totally covered in small, strange markings. Ron was drawn to it, and started to leave Harry and Hermione behind. Exasperated, Hermione called out to Ron as she took Harry by the hand and dragged him over to Ron.

"Ron, what are you doing?"

"That is just too weird" Ron muttered to himself.

"What is 'weird'? " she asked.

Ron motioned to the stone. "This looks just like the one's outside the Burrows," he told her as she and Harry looked perplex. "Right down to the strange little birds on top here."

Hermione and Harry moved closer to the stone and looked to what Ron was pointing out. The bird shaped engraving had no rounded edges whatsoever, all the lines were angular, and the image was covered in more symbols. These were completely different from the ones covering the rest of the post.

Harry looked at Ron as if he were off his rocker. He had been to The Burrows several times and had never seen anything like the post there before and he told Ron so.

"Well, you wouldn't have, would you?" Ron replied. 'They were just recently installed. This big bloke all dressed in black showed up with my dad one day not long ago, and Professor Dumbledore was with them!"

"They performed some sort of ritual I had never heard of before," interjected Hermione.

"The wicked thing was, four huge black stones, just like these," Ron said as he patted the post, "fell from the sky and buried themselves in the ground until they looked just like this!"

"Go ahead and tell Harry the best part," urged Hermione.

"Yeah!" beamed Ron, "We got to go home! The place is protected from You-Know-Who and his army of gits!"

"Wow, really?" exclaimed Harry, brightening up more than he had all summer. "That's great, Ron!"

"Too right, it is!" said Ron. "I was getting tired of not sleeping in my own bed! You-Know-Where is a larger and nicer place, but I do miss home! And we don't have a bloody painting that you have to tiptoe around!" he pointed out, describing the most irritating feature of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. It was the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, and the former home of the Black family, and contained a painting of Sirius Black's mother that seemed to love to scream at anyone not of pureblood.

" What I want to know is," Harry said, showing some interest in something for the first time since starting summer break, "how can an ordinary corner post keep Death Eaters away?"

" I wouldn't be so sure about it being ordinary, Harry," Hermione said as she peered closer to the post, "not with these markings."

"What about the markings?" asked Ron.

"Well, you recognize them, don't you?" replied Hermione. The boys just shook their heads.

" Honestly!" she sighed. " These are Nordic Runes, you know?" Both Ron and Harry still had blank looks on their faces.

" Runes are a magical alphabet," Hermione said as she put on her best teaching demeanor, " I take Ancient Runes at Hogwarts. They help to tell the future, and act as protective symbols and such. I think that is what these do, they act as a protective barrier. Ron, how many did you say are around The Burrows?"

"Four, I think," Ron said, raising his eyebrows and looking pensively toward Harry, who just shrugged his shoulders.

"Harry, have you seen any more of these around the neighborhood?" Hermione asked as she started to pace back and forth, deep in thought.

"Sure," Harry replied, " Like I said, they are just common corner markers. There is one about two blocks that way," he pointed toward the east, "and at least two more back behind the houses back there" he motioned south.

" That means the Dursley's place is exactly in the middle of the square," she said as she came to a stop. " Harry, I think we should not go any further in the direction we were walking, we ought to head back."

"Why?" asked Ron and Harry simultaneously.

Hermione just rolled her eyes." These are ley stones," she said to them as one would explain things to a three year old, "They form a shield of sorts around your house, Harry. These are what keep V-Voldemort and his Death Eaters out!"

"Whoa," whistled Ron softly.

"Where did the Dementors attack you and Dudley?" Hermione inquired.

"About a block pasted this post, right over there," Harry motioned forward.

"Oy! That tears it! We need to head back right now, I think!" Ron exclaimed, much to the agreement of the others. They quickly turned back and headed back to the Dursley's place.

It was well after dark when the three of them returned to the Dursley's house. Harry heard a rather lively discussion going on in the kitchen when they opened the front door and went in. Uncle Vernon's boisterous voice boomed from behind the kitchen door, by far the loudest. However, not to be outdone, a female voice almost matched Uncle Vernon's in volume.

Harry's eyes went wide as he recognized the lady's voice, and he looked over to Ron and Hermione, who both nodded to confirm his suspicions. The voice belonged to Professor McGonagall, deputy headmistress of Hogwarts, and head of Gryffindor House. Harry had never thought that Professor McGonagall would ever visit this place. She must be taking her promise to help him become an Auror seriously. Harry had thought she had just said that to get back at Dolores Umbridge, last year.

As he opened the kitchen door, Harry and the others were treated to a truly strange site. Remus Lupin was seated at the table, speaking quietly to Aunt Petunia, with his cousin Dudley sitting at the other end of the table, looking extremely pale and pensive.

The real show was Uncle Vernon and Professor McGonagall, both standing on opposite sides of the table, yet their faces were mere inches from each other. Uncle Vernon's face was the color of a stoplight, and the whiskers of his mustache stood straight out, reminding Harry of nothing less than the tail end of a flying broom. Vernon was shouting loud enough to wake the dead, five counties away.

Professor McGonagall wasn't much better, though. Her eyes were wide in anger, and her glasses were perched on the very tip of her nose. The hair on the back of her neck stood up much like that of the cat into which she could transform herself. Had her hair not been worked into a nice tight bun, Harry was sure that it all would be standing on end. The red of her face contrasted nicely with the emerald green of her robes, reminding Harry of a great living Christmas tree.

This thought brought a smile on Harry's face, one of the first in weeks. He quickly covered the smile up, however, to keep the two combatants from having any reason to turn their rage upon him. It was too late, though, for a few seconds after he had opened the door, they had both spun to see who had entered.

The reaction of the two could not have been any further apart. Uncle Vernon locked eyes with Harry, then looked at both Ron and Hermione in turn. His anger grew visible worse, if that was at all possible.

"POTTER!! I warned you I wanted you out of the house when Marge is here, and now some of your freakish friends show up!" screamed Uncle Vernon. " Tell these….these…these weirdoes to leave at once, before I call the constables! They don't seem to listen to decent people!"

" Oh dear!" exclaimed Professor McGonagall as she saw Harry's condition. All the color drained from her face as she rushed over and stood before Harry. "Mr. Potter, what has happened to you?"

"Harry, are you okay?," asked Lupin, who had left the table and walked over to Harry as soon as Harry had walked into the kitchen.

"Really, now!" barked Vernon, " you freaks must leave now before my sister returns! She must not learn that we are forced to associate with filth such as you! It could ruin our standing in the community!"

Professor McGonagall spun on her heel "How dare you speak to us like that! We are not the ones who have obviously abused this boy, you small little man!" she screeched at him. "What have you done to this child?!"

"They haven't done anything, Professor," said Harry before Uncle Vernon could reply.

"There! You see! He admits we have done nothing to him! NOW GET OUT!!"

"That, Mr. Potter," said Professor McGonagall, now trembling with rage , "is pure poppycock!! They have obviously been starving you again! How can anyone be so cruel to their own kin?"

Uncle Vernon puffed up larger than Harry had ever seen before, "Now see here, you sorry cow….."

"Why, you oversized lump of…."started Professor McGonagall.

A scream shattered the fight. All eyes turned to the table, where Aunt Petunia had turned deathly white, her eyes wide as saucers . She sat trembling at the table, and with one hand, pointed toward the kitchen window. A dark shadow passed quickly from view. Professor McGonagall drew in a quick little gasp, then turned to Harry and the others.

"Mr. Potter, please take Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley upstairs to your room and let them help get you ready to leave this horrid place. We're taking you home tonight."

"Yes, ma'am," replied Harry as he looked at Lupin, who had turned even more pale than usual. Harry ushered Ron and Hermione out the door and toward the stairs.

"You to, Dudley-dinkins," said Petunia in a shaky voice, "Go to the living room and watch the telly for a bit." Dudley moved faster than Harry had ever seen him move before in his entire life.

Harry lead his two friends up the stairs toward his room, "It may take a while, I wasn't ready to leave just yet. I thought I was still stuck here for a few more weeks."

"That's okay, Harry. Besides, Hermione has never been to your room before, you can show her around a bit."

"Er..," coughed Hermione, "Ron, a girl is not supposed to see the inside a of a boy's bedroom," she said gently, though she was blushing a bit at the thought.

" Oh. Er.. Right you are, Hermione! Uh, my mistake." replied Ron, as his ears turned red with embarrassment.

"Besides," Harry called back to them as they climbed the stairs, grinning at his friends' conversation, "there's not really much to see. I just have to pack a bit. I promise, nothing will bite," he added.

Harry opened the door to his room and stopped suddenly. His eyes bugged out a bit when he saw the condition of his room. He hadn't cared how bad things had gotten this summer, and now he grew to regret it.

"Er, please excuse the mess," Harry stammered as Ron and Hermione followed him into the room. "I haven't felt very good lately," he stated meekly.

"Blimey, Harry! This is a work of art!," Ron said with admiration as he clasped Harry on the shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. Hermione made a strange noise that seemed to be a choked back response mixed with an outburst of laughter. She turned her head and coughed a bit to cover it up.

The floor was covered in Harry's clothing, both Muggle and wizard, along with various school books and bits of crumpled parchment. The bed was unmade, of course, and the top of the desk was obscured by used quills, unrolled scrolls, inkbottles in various stages of fullness, and a birdcage that contained one large, white, and very unhappy snow owl, who was currently squawking her displeasure at Harry.

"Oh no! Hedwig! I'm so sorry!" Harry said to his irritated friend, "I forgot to let you out!"

"Kinda late to do it now, letting her out," said Ron as he walked toward Harry, "she'll just have to stay in her cage until…JEEZE!!"

Ron had tripped over something concealed by a large pile of clothing, fell into Harry, who in turn fell into Hedwig's cage, eliciting a rather raucous response from her. Hermione knelt down and retrieved the object that Ron had tripped on: Harry's Firebolt racing broom. She stood there holding it with an impatient look on her face as Ron and Harry fought to untangle themselves. Harry looked at her, shamefaced, and shrugged.

"I'm sorry. I swear, normally it isn't this bad….." he stammered.

Hermione's expression softened. "It's alright, Harry. Come on, let's get you packed up!"

" Yeah, let's!" added Ron as he got back to his feet and started picking up, "The sooner we get it done, the sooner we can….ARRRGH!!"

Ron stood up suddenly and started to wildly shake his arm. His face was turning an astounding shade of red, almost to the point of matching his hair. Harry and Hermione tried to get him to stop and tell them what was wrong, but he continued to dance and jump around as if he had a Hungarian Horntail in his shorts.

" For Pete's sakes!" cried Hermione, "Ron, hold still!"

"Getitoffgetitoffgetitoff!!!!" yelled Ron, extremely impatiently.

"Oof! Got him!" exclaimed Harry as he grabbed Ron by the waist from behind, knocking Harry's glasses off in the process.

"Ron...hold...still!" commanded Hermione as she finally grabbed his arm to see what was the problem. Upon discovering the cause of the commotion, she broke out in a fit of the giggles.

"Ow! Bloody hell! It's not funny!" barked Ron as Hermione finally managed to get the offending object from Ron's hand. It fell to the floor with a large thud.

"What was it?" asked Harry as he released Ron and bent over to retrieve his glasses.

"Watch out, Harry!" warned Hermione, " I don't wish to go through that again!"

"What was it?" insisted Ron, massaging his sore hand.

"This book," replied Hermione as she picked it up and gently stroked it's spine. Harry put his glasses back on and peered at the book cradled in Hermione's hands. It was Harry's copy of The Monster Book of Monsters.

" How did that ruddy thing get out?!" wondered Ron. Harry just looked to his feet and collapsed into his desk chair.

"I've done it again," Harry said to the floor, "I've ended up hurting my friends again!" Tears threatened the corners of his eyes.

"Aw, don't worry about it," Ron said, trying to console his friend. "What's a few book bites between friends?" he added with a smile. Harry just shook his head.

"Come on, Harry," Hermione said, " we need to get you packed." She shot a worried to look toward Ron, who was wearing an equal look on his face.

Together, the two of them managed to get Harry back up and going, and before too long, the packing was finished. They were about to head back downstairs when the volume of the conversations below were raised significantly.

"Wonder what that's all about?" queried Ron.

"No telling,' replied Hermione, " it must be something secret to have sent us up here to packing thing by ourselves."

" Guess we'll never know," said Harry with a shrug.

"Wanna bet?" said Ron with a grin, as he pulled three items from is pocket. They were Weasley's Extendable Ears, invented by Ron's twin brothers, Fred and George. The two of them sold them in their joke shop in Hogsmeade village, and were a very popular item. They sold most of their stock to student of Hogwarts and reporters for The Daily Prophet.

"Yes!" exclaimed Hermione as she quickly snatched one from Ron and fitted it to her ear.

"I think we've been a bad influence on her!" said Ron shamelessly as he handed the other Ear to Harry.

"Yeah, we better stop or her parents won't let her play with us anymore!" added Harry. He and Ron snickered.

"Oh, hush you two!" retorted Hermione, who then stuck her tongue out at them. The two boys broke out in laughter.

"Shhh!" she whispered as she, Harry and Ron crept out to the stairs and lowered the Ears, allowing them to find their way to the bottom of the kitchen door. As the Ears reached their destination, the three of them were startled to hear a fifth, and unfamiliar, voice.

"…had I known you would have treated him as poorly as you have, I would have taken him myself!!" boomed the strange voice. It was deep and resonating, as if born for command.

"We treated him well enough!" retorted Aunt Petunia, "We fed him, clothed him, and sheltered him!"

"HA!" screeched Professor McGonagall, " You've starved him! You locked him in a closet for years and called it his room, while letting your son have TWO rooms of his own!" At this, the three eavesdroppers heard a strange growling sound. Harry hoped that Professor Lupin wasn't undergoing an attack of Lycanthropy.

"His clothes are obvious hand-me-downs from your son," calmly stated Lupin, "they are about five sizes too large."

"And as for feeding him," raged McGonagall, "he's nothing but skin and bones! Your son is the apparent size of a beached whale!!"

Harry and the others giggles a bit at the description of Dudley.  
"That's an insult to whales everywhere, that is!" snickered Ron, to which Hermione slugged him on the shoulder.

"Now see here!" bellowed Uncle Vernon, " You just watch how you speak about my son!"

"Be silent, Dursley," commanded the strange voice.

"This is MY house! You will not speak to me in that fashion!"

"I'll say once more, Dursley, be silent!" growled the voice, which was followed by a large thump.

"You remember, do you not," Lupin's calm voice interjected, "why you agreed to take Harry in? You gave Dumbledore your word."

"What's he on about, Petunia?" demanded Uncle Vernon.

McGonagall's voice piped up, "She should remember! It has kept her family safe now for fifteen years."

"I remember," said Aunt Petunia so softly that the three upstairs had to strain to hear her.

"Your safety depends on Harry, just as his depends on you," Lupin said. This startled Harry, as the other two looked at him. He just shrugged his shoulders.

"Just what does that mean?" thundered Uncle Vernon. "You mean to tell me that freakish little snot protects us?! You have to be kidding! I believe that I have heard more than enough!" Ron and Hermione winced at Vernon's description of Harry. For Harry's part, he just stared out into space. They heard the growling once more.

" Ask your wife! She knows the truth of the matter!" stated McGonagall as fact.

"It's true," Aunt Petunia said flatly.

"Oh really?" sneered Vernon, "How does that little freak protect us?"

More growling followed Vernon's outburst. Hermione was almost in tears over the terms being used to describe her friend. Ron gently patted her hand, which made her smile a bit. Harry didn't seemed phased at all, but he was concerned for Hermione.

" It's okay," he said reassuring her, "I'm used to it."

"It's not right, Harry! It's so cruel!" she hissed as a tear fell to the carpet. Ron sadly shook his head.

" I grew up with it, I've not known anything else until I met you lot." replied Harry, who smiled at the memory of meeting them. Hermione's eyes, though glistening with tears, flashed anger at the situation.

" The man who murdered Harry's parents, Lord Voldemort, doesn't just murder people, he murders their families as well," stated Lupin.

"Especially after they have fought as hard against him as Lilly and James had," added McGonagall.

"Even though Voldemort was nearly destroyed in his attempt to murder Harry, his followers would have tracked him down and murdered everyone in this house if it wasn't for the blood magic…."

"DO NOT USE THAT WORD IN MY HOUSE!!" yelled Uncle Vernon at the top of his lungs, "There is no such thing as magic! It is nothing but tricks used by you freaks and weirdoes to……urrk!"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione jumped at the sound of a large crash in the kitchen, followed by a very large thump and the sound of metal scraping. The three of them looked at each other in alarm.

"We should get down there and see what's going on," Harry stated.

"Are you crazy?" asked Ron as he grabbed Harry's arm to keep him in place. "That's the sound of a fight, that is, and there is no way we should get in the middle of it!"

"Not to sound too alarmist," piped up Hermione, "but I think that was the sound of a sword. I agree with Ron, we should just stay right here."

"A sword?!" the two boys said in unison.

"I know, it sounds farfetched," Hermione said, kind of sheepishly, " I think it is safer to stay up here."

"Agreed." added Ron.

"I warned you, Dursley," the strange voice said evenly and softly, "to hold your tongue, or I shall hold it for you!"

"Oh dear," interjected Professor McGonagall, "Lord Thunder, please, release him! Do not do anything you may regret."

"This, I would not regret," Lord Thunder said with conviction and in a voice filled with righteous anger. "The world would be a better place without this waste."

"Please, let him go!" pleaded Petunia.

"At this point, I care not for the blood magic that protects you and yours," added Thunder, "My only concern is for Harry! I would gladly lay down my life for him, if only to remove him from the abuse he has had to endure!"

"Lord Thunder," Lupin called softly, " I understand how you feel, but you know there cannot be one without the other. His mother's sacrifice set it, it cannot be undone."

"Harry is family! I cannot abide him staying in these conditions any longer! The very thought of him ever returning here makes me ill! I have watched my cousin this past month and have done nothing, as Dumbledore has bid me to, but I can watch no longer! He must be removed from this festering boil they call a home!"

Harry's eyes went wide with shock. He had another cousin?! He had been watching over him for the past month?! Harry just could not believe it. Ron and Hermione both turned and stared at him, trying to judge his reaction and finding it hard to believe the news themselves.

"You had other family out there all along and they let you still live with the Dursleys? That is just so wrong!" exclaimed Ron in a hoarse whisper.

"Ron, they may have had no choice!" piped in Hermione, "Harry, what do they mean about this 'blood magic' they are on about?"

"It's something Professor Dumbledore told me," explained Harry, " That my mother's sacrifice to save me from Riddle had set some sort of magic, both in my blood and through her bloodline that would protect us from Riddle and his Death Eaters. I lost the protection of my blood when it was used to bring him back, but the magic in the bloodline still works, it seems."

"Riddle?" Ron and Hermione asked together. Harry told them he refused to call him 'Voldemort' any longer. They both looked at him with amazement and a bit of confusion. He just shook his head and started listening again.

"Please, Lord Thunder, let him go!" pleaded Aunt Petunia once more.

"Very well," stated Thunder calmly, " but you must tell him the truth! Leave nothing out!"

"Yes, My Lord," she replied weakly. Harry was surprised to hear the defeat in her voice. A very large thump followed quickly.

"What is he talking about?" stammered Uncle Vernon.

"Go ahead," urged Lupin gently, "there is nothing to fear from the truth."

"Ha!" snorted Petunia, followed by the growl once more.

"Petunia!" growled Thunder. Silence reigned for a moment before she spoke once more. 

"I have told you before, Vernon, that Lilly was the first witch in my family, and that I saw her as the freak she was. That was a lie. She was the first witch in about ten generations on my father's side of the family. He was so happy when her power came into being."

"Go on," urged McGonagall.

"On my mother's side, however," continued Petunia, "well, that's a completely different story. Her side had nothing but freaks in it until my mother was born. She was normal. The wizards called her a 'squib', which is someone born of magical parents, but having no magic. It really hurt her to not be like the rest of her family. My grandmother was an extremely powerful witch, you see, and she so wanted to be like her."

"Whaaaaaaaat?" gasped Vernon.

"Continue," commanded Thunder.

"Mother and Father met and married, and had Lilly and I. She hoped her 'curse' would not be passed down to us. She could tell from birth which of us would be magical. She just had to look at our eyes. I took after father, I have no magic whatsoever. Lilly, however, took after our grandmother, right down to her bright green eyes."

There was silence for a moment before Petunia continued, "You see, it is the eyes that mark the witches and wizards in Mother's family. They all have the same bright green eyes. Lilly had them, and that is how I knew Harry as one as well. He has his mother's eyes."

Harry, Hermione, and Ron sat listening, enraptured. That explained why everyone commented on his eyes, Harry thought to himself. He looked over to his friends, both of whom sat there in stunned silence. The voices picked up once again.

"Mother and father were both thrilled that Lilly had married that Potter fellow, and had a son by him. They both died soon after Harry's birth. I have kept this secret this whole time, hoping that this would never darken my door ever again. However, Lilly and James were killed and we were saddled with their brat. I tried everything I could to force the magic from him, but it never worked!"

" B-b-but what does that mean? Is Dudley a freak too?" stuttered Vernon.

" No, your son has no magic," replied Thunder, "other than increasing his size every time he sits at a table!" Harry and the others laughed out loud at the retort.

"Hmm," mused Thunder, "It seems young ears have a far reach."

Harry and the others bolted upright as Thunder made his announcement, and started reeling in the Ears as they heard the kitchen door open. Harry was almost done with the Ear when he saw a shadow move out of the corner of his eye. Spinning around, he stared into his empty bedroom.

"What's wrong, Harry?' asked Ron.

"I could have sworn I saw something move," he replied.

"Well, there's nothing here now," answered Hermione as they quickly ducked into Harry's room as the footsteps drew closer. She and the other started grabbing Harry's things as Remus Lupin appeared in the doorway.

"All packed, now?" he asked.

"Yes sir, ready to go!" replied Harry as he grabbed Hedwig's cage in one hand and his trunk with the other.

"Hang on, Harry," said Ron as he reached over and grabbed the other handle of the trunk.

It didn't take them very long at all to get Harry's stuff downstairs and out onto the front step. Harry made one last look around his room, seeing if he had missed anything when he saw a new parchment sitting on his desk. It was rolled tight and sealed with a wax stamp, emblazoned upon it was a highly stylized 'T'.

"You can read it when we get you to The Burrows," Lupin told him as he walked up behind him. Harry looked around in confusion.

"What's wrong, Mr. Potter?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"Professor, was there anyone else with you this evening?"

"Indeed there was," she replied, "but he had some urgent business he had to attend to." Harry looked a little sad at the news. Professor McGonagall's expression softened a bit at seeing this.

"Don't worry, Harry, I suspect you'll be seeing him soon enough," she whispered to him. This seemed to cheer him up somewhat. "Now. Let's get you out of this place and get you fed!"

"Yes, ma'am" Harry replied, feeling hunger come upon him for the first time in over a month.

They packed all Harry's stuff into the trunk a car Harry had never seen before, but realized it was enchanted much like the Ford Anglia Ron's father had owned several years ago. All of Harry's stuff fit with plenty of room to spare, and he, Hermione, and Ron crawled into the back seat as Lupin and McGonagall took their places upfront.

"Now, everyone buckle up," called out Lupin as he shifted the car into Flight mode, turned on the Invisibility Charm, and took off into the sky, winging Harry from the pit that was the Dursley's house, and taking him to a place that was much more of a home to him: The Burrows.

All that was left behind was a thoroughly confused Vernon, a wilted Petunia, and a fearful Dudley. 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: Justice Served.

The Atrium of the Ministry of Magic showed no signs of the pitched battle that had taken place several weeks prior between the forces of the Order of the Phoenix and Lord Voldemort's Death Eaters, with one slight exception.

The Fountain of Magical Brethren, located in the center of the Atrium, was slightly altered, as the wizard statue standing within the center of the fountain had a totally different head than from before the battle. The old one had been blasted off by Lord Voldemort, and subsequently used by his opponent, Albus Dumbledore, as a portkey to send Harry Potter back to Hogwarts after the battle. After that, the head 'mysteriously vanished', but was believed to be sitting on a shelf in Dumbledore's office at Hogwarts.

All around, Ministry officials busied themselves doing what Ministry officials do, walking to and fro from offices and meetings, greeting each other with smiles that seemed forced and somewhat out of place. Everyone was doing everything they could to make it seem as if all was well and normal. No one ever mentioned the Death Eater attack, and did everything to make it seem that it had never occurred.

It was a lie, however. No matter how hard they tried, the shadow of Lord Voldemort and his ilk seemed to cast a pallor over everyone. Nothing seemed to make the gloom fade from view. The golden gates leading into the Ministry proper had been repaired and re-polished to their former glory, and the gaping holes in the peacock blue ceiling had been filled and repainted.

The guard booth had be completely refurbished, with many extra layers of automatic security devices added. No one wanted to truly believe that the Death Eaters would dare attack again, especially not in the daytime, thus the reliance on devices, and the maintaining of just one single guard at all times, so as to provide a sense of normality to the wizarding world.

And yet, everyone inside the Ministry of Magic walked as if on eggshells. They feared that one wrong step, or misspoken word, would bring forth the wrath of Voldemort. Stolen, fearful glances out of the corners of eyes were the order of the day, and every other day. They had feared that this day would come once more, and their fears were well founded.

The Ministry had ignored the threat of a revived Voldemort, and had preferred to persecute those who had warned of his return. They were caught unawares, and totally unprepared for his sudden re-emergence. The total number of Aurors had dropped significantly since the end of the First War, many of those that had survived had chosen to retire, and the Ministry was struggling to gather it's forces. Aurors who had retired were being pressed back into service, as the Ministry increased it's budget for recruitment and training.

Many wizards thought it was too little, too late. Voldemort and his followers had gone to ground after the attack, and had yet to take any overt actions announcing their presence. Everyone knew it was just a matter of time, soon he would start making his power known.

Thus the Ministry was on heightened awareness, with everyone's nerves on edge, when a most extraordinary event occurred. Wizards and witches were milling about the Atrium, going about their day, when three dark figures appeared.

There was a collective gasp from the wizards and witches assembled. The crowd parted as if a giant, invisible hand had shoved everyone from their path. All three wore black, hooded cloaks, with the hoods obscuring their faces from view. The tallest figure, the one standing in the middle, extended a mail covered hand and pointed toward the security station.

Eric, the lone security guard for the day, dressed in his peacock blue robes, blanched as he saw the trio move in his direction. He could not make out their faces, nor anything else under their cloaks, for that matter. All he was able to distinguish was their black pants and black leather boots as they marched, in step, to his station. He was visibly shaking as they reached his position. A feeling of deep dread crept over him as they stopped before him.

All the security devices fail to acknowledge their presence, which did nothing to help Eric's nerves. If anything, they seemed totally inoperative.

Breathing heavily, Eric tried to calm himself, thinking that he should have known that this would happen. He knew what they were, but he had no idea as to why they were here. Gathering all his wits and courage, he realized that he still had a job to do, and neither their sheer force of presence, nor his weak, shaking knees, would keep him from performing his assigned task.

"H-h-hello, gentlemen, and good morning!" said Eric, with a somewhat shaky voice, "w-w-what is your business with the Ministry of Magic today?"

"Justice," stated the tallest figure, with a deep thundering voice. Eric cursed himself, he should have known that answer was coming.

"I see, and where is your visitor's identification?"

"We have none," replied the figure once more, obviously the leader of the three. "However, we do have this."

The leader produced a tightly rolled parchment, upon which were seven wax seals. Eric stared in amazement as he recognized the agencies the seals were from. The first was from the Muggle Prime Minister's office, the second was from the Ministry of Magic itself, and the third was from the magical courts, the Wizengamot.

The fourth seal was one Eric had seen only in once before, it was from the International Confederation of Wizards, the branch of the Muggle United Nations that dealt with magical matters.

The fifth seal was the one that gave magical folk nightmares, and one that he had only had described to him as a younger man. When he was hired as the security wizard years ago, he was told, most adamantly, that anyone possessing this seal on any document was to be questioned no further. It was the seal of The Knights Council.

The last two seals were covered in strange glyphs that he had never seen before in his life. Eric barely registered their existence, for the sight of the fifth seal had shaken him badly. His fright must have be noticeable, for the figure on the right put out a hand and touched Eric on the shoulder.

" Calm down, relax, and be at peace. There is nothing to fear from us," stated the figure in quiet, soothing tones. Eric immediately relaxed and recovered quite a bit. The spot where he was touched was warm and sent a pleasant sensation to the rest of his being.

"Er. Well, yes, everything seems to be in order," continued Eric, his confidence returning more each passing moment." Now, gentlemen, I need to weigh your wands."

All three figures threw back one side of their cloaks and drew a gleaming sword each, and pointed them in Eric's direction. There were a few screams from people in the Atrium when they saw what had happened, but the screams ended as quickly as they had began. For with a movement that was quicker than the human eye could track, all three had spun their swords and presented the handles to Eric.

" As you may notice, we have no wands," replied the leader gently, " but you may hold on to these for the now. Treat them well."

"Uh, yes sir," Eric said as he gently took the blades and placed them on the magical table just behind his station. "You gentlemen may pick them up when you leave."

"Thank you," voiced the leader, "you can expect a technician to call upon you soon to see to your security. It is disabled entirely too easily."

With that, the three spun on their heels and walked toward the elevators leading to the various floors of the Ministry. Eric watched them as went, and much to his disbelief, they seemed to shimmer somewhat, then vanish from his view. There wasn't the loud popping noise of someone Disappearating, just the slight whisper of wind as they passed from view.

Eric now turned his attentions to the swords placed upon the table. They were beautiful broadswords, each about three and a half feet long, with a shining steel blade, black leather wrapped handle, and a large round pommel with a strange, stylized bird emblazoned on it. Not able to help himself, he reached forward to pick up one of the exquisite weapons, and as one, all three spun on the table and pointed the tip of their blades in Eric's direction. Taking that as a hint that he was not to touch, Eric turned around and took his place back at the desk of his security station. All the new security devices seemed to be working again, but he wondered how long it would take for the tech to show up and fix them properly.

The three darkly cloaked figures shimmered into existence just in front of the doors to the elevator, as if stepping off. A small paper airplane flapped it's wings as it passed before the leader's face. His head slowly turned and followed the slowly gliding plane until it passed from view into a nearby cubicle. He just slowly shook his head as the shoulders of the other two shook a bit from silent laughter. The leader motioned them forward, down the hall leading to the Office of the Minister of Magic.

They were halfway down the hall when a group of five Aurors appearated before them, their coming announced by the loud cracking of supersonically displaced air. The Aurors spread out to block further access to the corridor, and took up combat positions, all armed with their wands.

"Halt!" ordered the first Auror, a tall and muscular bloke. There was a gasp from the other four Aurors.

"By Merlin's beard! Knights!!" exclaimed a second Auror, who was shorter and a little more stout than his comrades.

"Knights or not, you shall not pass us!" stated the first.

The leader of the Knights marched forward until he was mere inches from the tips of the Aurors' wands. He slowly extended his hand containing the rolled parchment.

"We have the warrants," he stated plainly, expecting that to explain it all. It obviously did, for the five before him went deathly pale.

"The seven seals!!!" cried out a third Auror, who seemed to be on the edge of collapse. The fourth Auror reached out to take the scroll from the leader of the knights, then jerked her hand back as a bolt of electricity reached out and stung her.

" None shall bar us," the second knight replied as the Auror rubbed her tingling hand. " Please move aside."

With great reluctance, the Aurors moved out of the way, allowing the Knights to proceed down the hall. Unbeknownst to almost all involved, the final Auror turned toward the Knights, aimed his wand, and fired off a fiery red jet of flame at the back of the lead Knight.

"NO!" yelled the lead Auror as the bolt screamed toward the Knight.

However, a most amazing event occurred. The jet of flame reached the Knight, who kept walking. It stopped just millimeters from the Knight's cloak, sat there for a second in mid-air, then turned around and sped right back toward the Auror. It hit the wand, right at the tip, causing it to shatter into a thousand fragments. The force of the blast was enough to hurl the offending Auror down the corridor and slam into the end wall.

Stunned, with the wind knocked out of him, the Auror shook his head and looked up in shock. The Knight was standing over him. The other Aurors whirled around in surprise. They hadn't even seen the Knight move, only the gasp from the stricken Auror alerted them to his presence.

"That was not very nice," explained the Knight as he reached out to help the Auror to his feet. The Auror slapped the hand away and tried to do so on his own.

" A disciplinary report shall be filed with your superiors," continued the Knight as he turned from the rebuff and started walking toward his comrades. "There is no honor in attacking from behind."

"You sound just like that fool, Moody," snarled the Auror, still unable to regain his feet on his own. "What have you done to me?"

"Not a thing," called out the Knight, " Your own spell was merely reflected back to you. It should wear off soon." He stopped before the lead Auror, " If you would, please tell Ms. Bones that I shall have need to speak with her soon."

"Yes sir" replied the Auror meekly. " Stanley, you are such an idiot!" he said to the fallen Auror as he rushed over to help him up.

"I'm sorry, Oliver," the crumpled Auror said as he slowly returned to his feet. " I had orders to not let this lot pass."

"I hope it was worth your job," Oliver commented, " I have a feeling it's over, your career." All the Aurors shuffled off to Amelia Bones' office, leaving the Knights unmolested and continuing their task.

Cornelius Fudge sat at his desk, humming softly to himself, as he studied the three parchments that currently sat upon his desk, unrolled. He smiled as he re-read them one by one, feeling his spirits build higher by the second.

The first was a Writ of Release, just signed by him , authorizing the discharge of Lucius Malfoy from Azkaban prison. He had always felt that assigning poor Lucius there was a grave miscarriage of justice.

The second was a written statement by Malfoy, claiming that he was an unwilling participant of the attack on the Ministry. He stated that he had been captured by Voldemort and the Death Eaters and forced to go along, despite his protestations. He claimed that his family would have been in danger if he had refused. It was this sworn statement that convinced Fudge to release Malfoy immediately. Poor Lucius!

The last was a statement from Gringotts, the wizarding bank. It confirmed that fifty thousand Galleons had just been transferred from the Malfoy account to a special account managed by Fudge himself. That account was set aside to help cover the cost of certain expenses that just could not be covered by the salary of the Minister himself, such as property taxes, meals, clothing, vacations, income taxes, servants, so on and so forth. Some of that fund went to charities as well, like the operation of St. Mungo's Hospital, but there really was never enough to go around, thus the fountain downstairs.

Fudge rolled the parchment up and sealed it with a wax stamp before attaching it to his owl and sending it to Azkaban prison. That was a mere formality, however, for Fudge had personally seen to Lucius' release several day prior. The paperwork had just been confirmed today of the bank transfer, this would have been impossible if poor Lucius was still locked up in that horrid place.

He chuckled a bit. Lucius had taken care of him for several years now, so Fudge was now only too glad to return the favor. It was a good thing to curry the favor of the wealthy, for the wealth helped make the world go around, even in the wizarding world. People like Lucius Malfoy helped Fudge maintain his power base, and not even that high and mighty Albus Dumbledore could do anything about it.

Three shadows fell across the top of Fudge's desk, covering the two remaining parchments and drawing Fudge out of his reverie as he started to concentrate on the work on his desk.

"Yes, what is it now, Weasley?" asked Fudge in a grumpy tone. Percy Weasley, his Junior Undersecretary, had a rather annoying habit of coming into his office to talk every little single issue to death. Fudge had never met anyone so irritating before, not even that pain, Dumbledore.

"I am not Weasley," stated one of the shadows. Fudge's head snapped up in total surprise.

"You!" yelled Fudge as he pulled his wand from his robes and aimed it at the tallest figure standing in his doorway.

"Enough!" exclaimed the lead Knight, holding his hand outward toward Fudge.

Much to Fudge's shock and dismay, his wand turned to dust, which filtered through his fingers and settled upon the top of his desk. He turned to run from behind his desk and down his secret passageway leading to the Atrium, but discovered that he was unable to take a single step.

"Release me!" he screamed, his face turning redder than a beet, "I am the Minister of Magic, by Merlin! You cannot do this to me!"

"Cornelius Fudge, we have a warrant for your arrest," said the lead Knight as he extended the rolled parchment toward Fudge. Fudge's eyes opened up several times wider than they ever were intended to when he saw the seals upon the parchment.

"The ICW? The Wizengamot? The Ministry itself? I authorized no such warrant!"

"It was not up to you," stated the second knight as he advanced on Fudge, gently taking his right arm in one mailed hand. "The Department of Magical Law Enforcement, as well as the Wizengamot, have the authority to issue warrants."

"Fudge," started the lead Knight, "You are charged with corruption, improper use of your office, wrongful prosecution, willful disregard for the welfare of a minor, illegal use of force, illegal interception of communications, interference with the lawful running of a school, usurpation of power…"

" And for being a Class A git!" chirped in the third Knight. The leader turned and scowled at him.

"Take him to Azkaban until time for his trial," he instructed the second Knight, "and allow him access to his legal council. Show him the proper way to justice."

"Yes sir," replied the Knight as he and Fudge slowly faded from view.

" A Class A git?" the leader said as he turned toward his remaining Knight.

"Well, it's true," shrugged the Knight as he and the leader turned toward the door and began their journey to their next assignment.

"Lord, help me," sighed the leader in exasperation as he shook his head in mock dismay. "Come, I look forward to this next one."

Dolores Umbridge sat in her office and listened to the sounds coming from the Minister's office. Though the walls were thick and soundproof to prevent the release of sensitive information, she had her own ways to discover what was going on at the top level of the administration.

Her little magical jewel, one that was supposedly lost on her first visit to the Minister's office when she first joined the Ministry, relayed everything that occurred in the office. She sat at her desk and gazed into the twin jewel located on one of the gaudy rings that she insisted on wearing and flashing to everyone. This was the ticket she used on her way to power in the Ministry, keying her into every single key decision that took place, every opening in the Ministry that she could get her foot in, and every little dirty detail she could use as leverage of some sort.

She had known that Fudge was taking _donations_ from various people to look the one way or another in several matters, and had stuck that information back to use whenever it was the time to do so. It was with this information she was able to blackmail the wizard in charge of the Dementors of Azkaban to send them after Harry Potter last year. She had sent written orders to do so, with proof of her intentions, thus the task was accomplished with due haste.

She had also used this information to get others to back her in becoming the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts during her time there as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. She was able to get so much done with that title, and the power to back it up. It was ruined in the end, of course, by that lying little ruffian, Harry Potter, and his friends. She was so close to reining supremely in Hogwarts that the pain of that failure haunted her even now. That old fool, Dumbledore, was back in charge and securing his power base. Sometimes, life was just not fair!

However, the pain was beginning to fade as Cornelius Fudge was taken from the Ministry to Azkaban prison. As Senior Undersecretary, she was the logical choice to replace him, as well as next in line! Why control a ruddy old school when she can control the entire wizarding population of Great Britain!

The Auror that she had ordered to remove the Knights by any force possible had failed, and now she was truly happy that he had. What a glorious day, she thought to herself.

That happiness lasted for all of a half a second as the door to her office exploded inward with a great crash of thunder. Her glasses magnified the flash of lightening that had accompanied the thunder, blinding her for a few brief moments. As her vision cleared, her day was completely ruined. Standing in the demolished doorway of her office , stood the two remaining Knights. A strange blue light partially lit the face of the lead Knight as he slowly stalked toward her. She cowered behind her desk, desperately looking for her new wand.

"Aha!" she yell triumphantly as she found her wand and jumped up, aiming it at the Knights. "Petrificus Tot…"

"SILENCE!!" ordered the Lead Knight in a voice that shook the very building in which they stood. With a wave of his hand, Umbridge's wand flew across the room and stuck in the stone wall , imbedding itself halfway up the length. His hand waved in the other direction, causing her desk to fly against the wall on the other side of the room, shattering into several large fragments.

"How, how dare you?!" she stammered, clearly shaken by the extreme use of magical force displayed before her this day." "J-j-just who do you think you are?!"

"Who do you think I am, madam?" replied the Knight as he threw back the hood of his cloak and towered over her toad like body. His head was covered with a chainmail hood, leaving only his face exposed.

His skin was dark, as if he had spent most of his life in extreme sunlight, and he had a neatly trimmed goatee, which seemed to lengthen his roundish face. The most astonishing feature was his eyes. The irises were so dark that she could not see the border of pupils, and the whites of his eyes were bluish, with what seemed to be sparks of energy dancing through them. Dolores gasped and went weak at the knees. It was _him_, standing before her. She knew this was not a good thing.

"NO!" she shrieked, then clutched her hands to her chest. "Lord Thunder!"

"Indeed, Dolores Umbridge, it is I," he stated through clenched teeth. "Do you have any idea as to why I am here?"

Umbridge trembled violently. She feared that she knew exactly why he was here, but she refused to admit it.

"I-I-I have no idea, My Lord!"

"Indeed?" Thunder replied, his eyes filled with distain. "Perhaps this will refresh your memory?" he asked as he pulled something out from under his cloak. It was a long thin black quill, with a very sharp tip. "Or perhaps even these?"

Dolores' eyes grew wide with shock as Lord Thunder produced a parchment from his cloak. She knew that her carefully crafted career with the Ministry was now over. None of the hard work and sneakiness made any difference. All the evidence the Knights needed to convict her of a number of serious crimes were now in the hands of Lord Thunder. She was growing desperate, and knew her freedom was at stake.

Umbridge moved faster than she had ever moved before in her life. She jumped to the side and ran over to her wand, which was still doing it's best impersonation of a nail hammered into a wall. She grabbed it with one hand and placed her other on the wall to use as leverage to pull it free. That was a mistake.

A scream pierced the relative quiet of the floor. Umbridge felt a horrible sensation in the hand she had placed on the wall. Looking over, through tear blurred eyes, she saw why: the quill that she had used On Harry Potter as punishment at Hogwarts was now sticking out of the back of her hand, the tip actually pinning her hand to the wall. She was unable to remove it from her hand, and refused to release the grip on her wand with the other. She screamed once more.

"How dare I?" hissed Thunder in her ear, as she snapped her head around, surprised to see him standing there next to her. "How dare you?!"

"Wha-wha-wha….." she tried to speak, but the shock and the pain refused to allow any words to form.

""This," Thunder stated softly in her ear, with a voice full of rage, " is an illegal form of punishment! For adults! And you had the audacity to use it on a child?! You sent Dementors after him, as well? Just what kind of person are you?!"

"I-I-I had to make him stop spreading lies," she countered between sobs and gasps of breath. " It was my duty…."

"YOUR DUTY?!" bellowed Lord Thunder as he stood back and stared at her with disgust, " Your duty?! He is just a child! How dare you abuse him that way! Harry Potter is my cousin, you poor excuse for a human being! NO one treats a child that way, especially not if they are my family ! I hope you end up rotting in the deepest level of…"

"Lord Thunder," said the second Knight gently as he place a hand on Thunder's shoulder, "we have our own duty to perform this day, a truer duty than any this woman has ever known." He looked at Dolores Umbridge, head hung as she was wracked with sobs, still refusing to release her wand, still pinned to the wall by the quill she had used so horribly at Hogwarts.

" You are right," said Thunder softly as he walked around and removed the quill from the wall and Umbridge's hand. He touched the spot were blood had started to ooze out of her hand, instantly healing it. "I allowed my emotions to get the better of me. Please forgive me."

Umbridge never heard a word Thunder said, she instantly placed both hands on the wand and pulled for all she was worth. The wand, however, turned to dust, causing her to fly backwards and land on her rather large rump with a very loud thump. The second Knight reached down and helped her stand, and gently held her arm as Lord Thunder produced the second rolled parchment he had carried. Breaking the seals, he started reading of the charges.

"Dolores Umbridge, you are charged with corruption, abuse of a child in your care, attempted murder of a child, illegal use of authority, illegal usurpation of authority, illegal arming of children, illegal assault on two professors at Hogwarts, unlawful termination of one professor of Hogwarts, interference with the proper operation of a school, and being a rather poor dresser."

The last charge caused the Knight to look up at Lord Thunder with surprise. Thunder just looked back at him and gave him a quick wink. Dolores was so involved with her own misery that she didn't even acknowledge the charges leveled against her. The Knight just stood there and shook his head, a small smile forming on his face.

"Jeeze, and he wonders where _we_ get it from…" the Knight said as he and Dolores Umbridge slowly faded from view.

Lord Thunder just stood there in the remains of the office for a few moments. He was ashamed of his actions of the past few minutes. He should be above that kind thing, he thought to himself. His anger was righteous, but it was no excuse for what he had just done. He could have easily stopped her without having to stoop to use physical violence. Using the quill to pin her to the wall was poetic justice of a sort, he mused, then crushed the thought in his head. His job was to exact justice, not dole out pain and punishment. That was better left to the courts, not angry relatives.

Spinning on his heel, Thunder marched out of the office and into the hallway, looking for someone to ask direction from. He had one more stop to make before he could leave the Ministry. As he reached the elevator, Amelia Bones stepped out and stopped in her tracks.

"Oh dear! It's true!" she exclaimed as her monocle dropped from her widening eye and dangled from it's silken cord. "Lord Thunder, what an honor, sir! I believe you wished to see me?"

"Indeed, Ms. Bones," replied Thunder as he filled her in on the serving of the warrants and capture of the suspects. He then went into detail on the confrontation with the Aurors, and the attack perpetrated against him by the idiot, Stanley. Amelia's mouth gaped as he told her of the attack, then vigorously stated that she would deal with the problem.

"Is there anything else I can help you with, My Lord?"

"Yes, there is," Thunder added, " Could you please point out the direction to Mr. Weasley's office?"

"Percy Weasley? The Junior Undersecretary?" she asked in disbelief.

"No, no, Arthur Weasley, the head of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts."

"You want to speak with Arthur?" she replied, puzzled, " What has he done? Nothing illegal, that I can think of. He's one of the most honest people I've ever had the pleasure dealing with."

"Fear not," Thunder reassured her, "He has done nothing wrong, I merely have a matter of great importance to discuss with him."

"Oh," she said, clearly relieved, "I'm sorry! His office is just below us on Level Two."

"Thank you, madam, and have a good day!" he replied as he started walking toward the elevator and faded from view.

Amelia Bones stood there for just a moment, calming herself, before peering around to see what damage had been caused in the apprehension of Fudge and Umbridge. Fudge's office was in good shape, but Dolores' was a mess. She wondered what Dolores had done that was so terrible to have justified this amount of chaos. Suddenly, a thought came unbidden to her mind, and she rushed to the elevator to get back down to Level Two. She prayed Arthur would be alright until she got there.

"Arthur Weasley," Lord Thunder announced as he shimmered into view before Arthur's desk.

"All right there, My Lord?" asked Arthur as he looked up from the paperwork that threatened to completely overrun his desk.

"Okay, that's enough of the 'My Lord' garbage for now, thank you very much!" replied Thunder as he took a seat at the second desk in Arthur's small office. "We've known each other for too many years to hear that from you!"

"True, very true," Arthur replied with a grin as he shook Thunder's hand, " Good to see you again, though! We haven't gotten together since you helped me secure The Burrows. It feels good to be home again with everyone."

"How's everyone doing?"

"They're doing well, Harry had a bit of a rough night, though. I'm just glad we got him back where we can watch him," Arthur said as he watched a shadow pass over his friend's at the mention of Harry. "Now answer the bloody question: Are you alright?"

Thunder shook his head sadly then looked at his feet, "No, not truly. I almost messed up just a little bit ago. Messed up really bad, actually. I let my emotions get away from me when I went to arrest Umbridge. I had no real problem with Fudge, but Umbridge…"

"Come on, T, you're only human. After what she did to Harry, I'm surprised she is still in one piece! I know I would fly off the handle if she had treated my children that way, and if I had the kind of power and abilities that you have, well, she probably would be just a pile of ash right now."

"Art, I trashed her office and pinned her hand to the wall with a quill."

"Ouch!" Arthur winced," At least you didn't light her up with a lightning bolt."

"I was tempted," Thunder stated flatly. "That's the problem, perhaps I was too close to this to get involved."

"Hogwash! Here, have a frog!" Arthur quipped as he threw a pack of Chocolate Frogs to his friend.

"Damn! You know my one weakness!" Thunder said with a grin as he tore the package asunder. "Crud! Not him again!" he threw the Wizard Card to Arthur. "I only have about twenty of his cards."

"As if you need any reminding, eh?" laughed Arthur as he looked at the Card. Looking back was a picture of Merlin. " I'll give this to Harry for you."

" You do that," Thunder said as he stood to take his leave," Oh, by the way, this is for you," he stated as he pulled the final scroll he had carried into the Ministry from his cloak and handed it to Arthur. It, too, carried the seven seals.

Cautiously, Arthur broke the seals and read the scroll. His eyes went glassy and his face went slack as the scroll dropped from his hands and fell to the desk, " Do you know what is in this?"

"Yes, indeed," Thunder replied as he stood before his friend grinning from ear to ear. "Congratulations!"

"How did you do it?"

" 'Twasn't I," claimed Thunder innocently, " Everyone looked at your record and believed that you would be the best one for the job!"

"I don't believe it! You are such a sorry sack of.." stammered Arthur. Thunder busted out in a side splitting laugh.

" It is true! You saw all seven seals! Signed, sealed and delivered! Just don't let all that power go to your head!" laughed Thunder at his friend's obvious stunned state. The two friends stood there for a second before shaking hands.

"Now, I must be off," Thunder stated as Arthur stifled a laugh, " I have a few more things to take care of before the day is done."

"Won't you at least come by and see Harry tonight?"

"Would that I could, but worry not, he shall see me soon enough. Who knows, he may even grow tired of seeing me before the year ends."

"Take care, my friend," Arthur said as a good bye.

"And you, my friend," called back Thunder as he stood at the door to leave, "By the way, you are about to receive a visitor." Thunder opened the door just as Amelia Bones was reaching for the handle.

" Hello again, Ms. Bones, and good day!" greeted Thunder as he allowed her in, stepped out, and closed the door, leaving the two of them together. He was about five paces from the door when he heard something that made him grin.

" You're whaaaaaaaaaaat?!" cried out a female voice in utter disbelief.

Eric was nervously sitting at his security station, dreading what would happen as soon as the three Knights passed back by to retrieve their weapons. First, one sword mysteriously vanished, then a few minutes later, the second one disappeared. All that was left on his supposedly secure table was a single sword, of which he would not stop watching. He wished that the technician the Knight promised would show up before the final one vanished as well.

"Have a good day, Eric" a familiar voice said from behind him.

Turning, he saw nothing there but a fleeting shadow. Turning back around, he saw that the final sword was gone. Now quite beside himself, Eric was in a panic when he spotted a figure dressed in a black cloak shimmer into existence, carrying a bag of tools.

Seeing the state Eric was in, the technician placed a hand on his shoulder and told him to relax, that was just the way Knights did things. Eric sat back in his seat as the tech started the upgrades needed for the security of the Ministry.


	4. Chapter 4

-1Chapter 4 : The Shield.

" Come on, Sleeping Beauty, get up!" a rather loud voice called out.

Harry awoke with a start. He was laying in a comfortable bed, but he was unable to make out his surroundings, leastwise until he put his glasses on. Everything cleared, and he was able to make out the slanted wooden roof above his head.

Sitting up, he looked around the room and saw the walls plastered with posters of the Chudley Cannons, Ron's favorite Quidditch team. The various players zoomed in and out of the various posters, playing an eternally recorded game of Quidditch. Ron's Quidditch broom was propped up in the far corner, his Quidditch robes carefully hanging from it, as if he had just finished a tough match and was too tired to properly hang them. Harry smiled at the carefully crafted illusion.

Standing at the end of the bed was Ron, grinning like a fool. Harry's best friend had gotten even taller in the month or so since Harry had last seen him properly. His hair was perpetually mused, a tribute to his being the Gryffindor Quidditch team Keeper. If his hair wasn't mused from the constant practice he engaged in, then it was mused by the running of his fingers through it to simulate the practiced look.

"Happy Birthday, Harry!" exclaimed Ron as he stood at the end of Harry's bed, " Hurry up! Mum's preparing a birthday breakfast for you! Get up, slow poke!"

"Morning, Ron, and thanks!" replied Harry, smiling broadly. He'd never had a Birthday Breakfast before, " Your Mom didn't have to do that! I hope she hasn't gone through too much trouble!"

"No trouble at all! Mum wanted to do it, and we all helped! I promise, you won't get food poisoning, just stay away from the pudding Fred and George made!" Ron said with a wink. "Now get a move on! I'm starving!"

"Okay, Okay! I'm up! I'm up!" chuckled Harry at his friend's obvious excitement. Ron gave him a thumbs up and ran back out the door and down the stairs.

Throwing back the covers, Harry turned to sit on the edge of the bed. He was strangely refreshed this morning, he had his best night of sleep in over a month. It was due either to being in more comfortable surroundings with his friends, or to the strange parchment he had read the night before….

The journey to The Burrows has been rather uneventful, and Harry's spirits soared the closer they flew to their destination. Sleep was slowly trying to creep upon him, but he fought it off almost as fiercely as he had fought off the Basilisk during his second year at Hogwarts.

Harry pulled the glasses from his face and rubbed his eyes, trying to fend off the Sandman. With sleep came the dreams, and came the unbidden thoughts that had plagued him all summer thus far, and had prevented him from truly resting.

_Sirius is dead because of me!_

He shook his head violently, trying to stave off the guilt. He stared out the window, to watch the landscape fly by, but they flew above the clouds. The car must had been charmed to allow them to breath properly at this height, he thought to himself. The peaceful cloudscape slowly hypnotized him, bringing sleep closer and closer.

_It's all your fault, Harry!_

The thought snapped Harry back to the waking world. He started feeling the pain in his chest again, the horrid sense of guilt. He looked about the inside of the car.

Professor McGonagall and Remus Lupin were seated upfront, whispering amongst themselves. Hedwig was sitting silently on her perch, looking at him with a bored expression. His eyes grew heavy.

_I'm dead because of you!_

Tears formed in the corners of Harry's eyes, and he did his best to blink them away. He heard a small snort next to him. He looked around and located the source.

Ron had fallen asleep in the seat, as had Hermione, who was leaning against Ron. They must had been asleep for quite a while, for she was snuggled into Ron's chest, as if it were a pillow. Ron, for his part, had wrapped an arm around her shoulders in his sleep. Both seemed to be resting comfortably.

Harry smiled at the sight, they seemed so natural to him. Now if they both would realize that when they were awake, things may just fall into place the way they should. Oh, well, he thought to himself, they were both so stubborn that they would both deny it to their dying days.

He did envy them a bit, though. Just the fact that they could fall asleep so easily was enough to turn him greener than a field of clover in springtime. As for their possible relationship, he was truly happy. His own attempt at romance had been a dismal failure.

Harry had grown rather fond of a cute Hufflepuff girl named Cho Chang. Harry had thought that the feelings were mutual, however, much to his disappointment, he had discovered that they were not. Cho liked Harry a bit, but mainly wished to be with him because Harry was the last person to see her boyfriend at the time, Cedric Diggery, alive. Cedric was murdered on orders of Tom Riddle at the end of the Triwizard Tournament at the end of Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts.

Harry and Cho tried one date, but the two were preoccupied with other things, and it just didn't work out. Harry's feelings for her had long since evaporated, and Cho had moved on and found a new boyfriend.

Professor McGonagall saw movement out of the corner of her eye, and turned around to see Harry wide awake. She then saw Ron and Hermione snuggle up together and opened her mouth to say something, but Harry shook his head and put a finger to his lips. A smile graced McGonagall's face as she nodded her head in understanding. She leaned back over the seat somewhat to speak quietly to Harry.

"You really need to get some rest, Harry," she whispered back to him, "you look exhausted!"

"I'm alright, Professor," Harry replied. Professor McGonagall snorted.

"I know better than that, Mr. Potter," she retorted. "If I know Molly Weasley, she is going to throw a fit when she sees your condition. I'm not going to have her bawl me out because you didn't get any rest! She will blame Remus and I both!"

Harry just grinned and nodded, thinking that it was nice to see Professor McGonagall's softer and sillier side. She smiled once more after he agreed to rest, then turned to speak to Lupin once more, in hushed tones. Harry sat back and felt sleep creep back toward him.

_I'm dead, and you're alive!_

_What would your parents think?_

Harry startled back awake just as Lupin started to descend toward the road. He gasped, trying to regain his breath. The sound did not go un-noticed, as Professor McGonagall turned to look at him, a worried expression on her face. Harry just looked out the window.

Lupin sat the car down as smooth as glass, and after another few minutes of driving, pulled right up to the gate of The Burrows. The lack of motion was noticeable, as Hermione was the first to stir from slumber. She opened her eyes and remained snuggled to Ron for a few moments more, before realizing just exactly where she was. She tried to sit up quickly, but Ron's big arm was still wrapped around her.

"Ron, let go! Wake up!" she hissed as she started beating on his chest.

"Huh?!" Ron exclaimed as he awoke with a snort, "What?"

"Move your arm, Ron!" she said urgently, as warmth started to rise to her cheeks. Hermione hoped that no one had seen this.

"Huh? Oh! Sorry, Hermione," Ron replied as he yawned and stretched, " I guess I sort of sprawl out a bit when I sleep."

"Really? I hadn't noticed!" she stated shortly as she sat up and straightened herself up a bit.

"Sorry," Ron apologized sheepishly. Hermione's heart melted a bit when she looked at the hurt expression on his face.

"It's okay, Ron, I'm sorry for being so short," she replied as she patted his arm, "Just tired, you know."

"Yeah, me too," he said as he turned and made eye contact with her. They locked eyes for just a moment before she quickly turned away with a cough. Ron quickly turned away, as well, and saw Harry trying to stifle a laugh with his hand over his mouth.

"What's so funny?" Ron asked defensively, feeling the heat rise to his ears.

"Oh, not a thing, really," Harry said quickly, trying not to anger his friend, "I was just remembering how silly Sirius looked with that old newspaper in his mouth that one time."

Hermione grinned when she heard Harry, remembering when Sirius showed up as a big shaggy dog one day to see Harry, trying his best to act like a real dog delivering a paper. She let out a bit of a giggle.

"That's it, Harry, remember all the good stuff," Ron added as he punched Harry playfully on the arm. Harry was just glad that Ron had believed the story. He didn't want Ron to see how silly he thought Ron and Hermione were acting.

"All right, folks, we're here!" announced Lupin as he and Professor McGonagall started to climb out of the car, "Let's get Harry inside, shall we?"

"Right-o!" cried Ron as he followed Hermione out of the door then turned to get Hedwig's cage so Harry could get out. Within a few minutes, all of Harry's stuff was out of the car and floating through the house to the room he and Ron would share for the remainder of the summer. Harry discovered that Professor McGonagall's assessment of Mrs. Weasley's reaction was spot on.

"Oh dear me! Look at you, Harry!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed when she saw him for the first time. "You're nothing but skin and bones! What have they been feeding you?!"

"Hi, Mrs. Weasley," Harry greeted her as she ushered him into the kitchen and sat him at the table. She waved the others to sit as well as she produced plates and silverware from thin air to set the table.

"You look as if you haven't eaten anything for weeks!" she stated worriedly, "and all the rest of you missed supper as well! Lucky thing I still have some set back for you! Oh dear, oh dear…" she muttered as she waved her wand. Covered casserole dishes flew from the oven and landed upon the table.

If one thing could be truly said about Molly Weasley, it is that she knows how to fix a proper supper. A huge roast sat in the middle of the table, as did dishes filled with potatoes, diced carrots, stewed turnips, sausages, chips, yeast rolls, baked beans, beef stew, rice pudding, sugared beets, Cauldron cakes and Pumpkin Pasties. Jugs of pumpkin juice, butterbeer, fruit juices, and fresh water stood upon the table, ready for everyone to fill their cups and goblets.

"Fred! George! Ginny! Arthur! Come along now, everyone is here! Get a move on!" Molly called back up the stairs. What followed was a sound not unlike that produced by a herd of rampaging wildebeasts as the remaining Weasleys came downstairs for a second helping of supper, and to visit with those who had arrived.

Ginny was the winner of the race to the bottom of the stairs, then came to a screeching halt when she saw everyone, especially Harry. She went pale as a sheet when she saw Harry's condition. Fred and George promptly crashed into the back of Ginny.

"Oi! Whatcha stop for?" demanded George as he and Fred fought to keep from falling over. Ginny just pointed in Harry's direction as Arthur came up behind his children.

"Yes, Ginny, Harry's back," Arthur said absently.

"It's not that, Dad!", Ginny cried, "Harry looks ill!" Arthur followed her finger and was shocked at Harry's state.

"Oh my goodness! Harry!" he exclaimed. "Come on, children, get a move on!" he ordered as he ushered them down the remaining steps. Fred and George plopped down on either side of Harry as Ginny and Arthur found seats further down.

"Dudley been nicking your food again, has he?" Fred asked.

"Perhaps we should send him a shipment of our finest," George added with a mischievous gleam in his eye.

"You will not, George Weasley!" his mother said as she smacked him in the head with a handy ladle. "The fat lump may deserve it for what he has done to our poor Harry, but you will not send him any of your special treats!"

"Ow! Yes, Mum! I was only kidding!" George replied as he rubbed the back of his head. Fred, Ginny and Ron giggled a bit, while Harry and Hermione tried their best not to grin.

"Alright, everyone, tuck in!" Mrs. Weasley call out as she reached over and snatched Harry's plate from out in front of him. His eyes widened with horror as she promptly filled his plate to near over-flowing and placed it back in front of him. Harry wasn't very hungry at all, and hadn't planned on filling his plate anywhere near as full as it was now.

"Thanks," he told Mrs. Weasley, who smiled at him in a kind, but pitying sort of way, then started fixing the plates of others around the table. Harry gulped, then looked up and saw Ron and Hermione staring at him, wide-eyed and slacked-jawed at the amount of food in front of him. He just shrugged and started trying to eat.

"Come on, Harry dear, eat up!" Mrs. Weasley encouraged as she filled his plate once more. Harry was ready to pop and hadn't even eaten half of what she had given him the first time around. He did laugh out loud later on, though, when he watched Professor McGonagall and Mrs. Weasley fight over the Professor's plate, as Mrs. Weasley was trying to snatch the plate to fill it once more, and Professor McGonagall threatening Mrs. Weasley with her cane if she did. It was all in good fun.

Finally, everyone was finished, and all sat back with full stomachs, all happy and miserable. "I think my stomach is going to burst," grumbled Ron as he did his best to get comfortable.

"Well, Ron," Hermione quipped, "It might have something to do with that fourth helping of rice pudding you had a bit ago." That was promptly followed by a hiccup, which caused Hermione to blush mightily. She felt as if her eyes would pop out of her head if she even thought about trying to eat another bite, she was so full.

" No," Ron added miserably, "I think it may have been that sixth sausage. But look at you, it seems you finally broke that silly diet of yours."

"I'm sorry that it wasn't much," Mrs. Weasley said before Hermione could reply. Everyone just sat there, eyes bulging and jaws agape at the thought of all that food being referred to as 'not much'. Everyone sat around and talked for quite a while, catching up on what all had happened over the summer thus far.

"What's this about a diet, Hermione?" Harry asked, a bit curious.

"Well, it isn't something I go about spouting off to everyone," she replied as she sent a withering stare in Ron's direction. As for Ron's part, he did his best to melt into the cushions of the chair he was fortunate enough to find when he and everyone else retired to the living room to relax a bit.

"Why?" Harry asked, wanting to know her reason.

"It's complicated, my mother felt as if she need to loose some weight, so I joined her for moral support," Hermione replied as Ron snorted.

"And?" Harry urged.

"Well," she hesitated, looking down at her feet before continuing, "Like I said, it's a bit complicated. I felt as if my clothes haven't fit properly lately, and figured I should go and lose a few pounds. I guess I've been a bit too inactive of late. Besides, a girl feels like she should do all she can to make herself look her best. There are…other reasons…as well."

"Oh. Okay," replied Harry as he let himself digest the information, as well as the dinner.

"I think you look pretty good just as you are," Ron muttered before slapping his hands over his mouth, his eyebrows retreating into his hairline, and his ears turning as red as the beets he had eaten earlier. He slowly sank into the chair further still.

"Thanks, Ron," Hermione replied shyly, a bit surprised and flattered at Ron's assessment. She slowly got out of her chair and walked over and gave Ron a small kiss on his forehead before heading on out of the room to speak to Ginny. Harry's eyes opened three times wider than they were ever meant to at both Ron's statement and Hermione's reaction.

"I can't believe I just said that out loud," Ron squeaked, looking about wildly, as if he were ready to flee from his worst fear, rather than from his own words. "What an idiot!"

"I don't know, Ron," Harry replied, trying to comfort his friend, "It may have been the smartest thing you've ever said!" To which, Ron hurled an overly stuffed cushion in Harry's direction. Both friends collapsed into waves of laughter as cushions seemed to appear from the ether and go flying about in all directions at once.

Eventually, someone yawned, and that started the dreaded cycle, each yawn producing another and another, until it was mutually decided that it was time for bed. Professor McGonagall was given Percy's old room, while Remus Lupin would bunk up with Ron and Harry in Ron's room. Hermione and Ginny would share a room as well. With that all settled, everyone bid each other a good night and trouped off to their rooms.

Harry crawled into bed, his stomach much more full than it had been in a long time. Eyes heavy, he took off his glasses, snuggled under the down comforter that Mrs. Weasley had provided, and started to drift off into the Realm of Sleep.

_Sirius is dead because of me!_

Harry's eyes snapped open, as his heart threatened to pound out of his chest. His mind was racing once more, and his breath came in great gulps. Sweat broke out on his forehead as he looked about the room in the dark. Ron and Remus were both sound asleep. Harry finally got his breathing under control, and slowly started to sink back to sleep.

_It's all your fault, Harry!_

_You're the reason I'm dead, Harry!_

_What would your parents think?_

Every time a thought like that ran through his head, Harry jolted back awake. He never truly fell totally asleep, that goal was just out of his reach. Hours passed, and fatigue was taking it's toll. Tears of frustration formed in his eyes as he closed them once more, trying to quiet his mind.

_Why did you kill me, Harry?_

_I was your godfather, Harry!_

_How could you?!_

"Harry? Harry, what's wrong?"

Harry's eyes opened once more, and saw Lupin standing over him. Ron was sitting up in his bed, looking at Harry with an expression of concern on his face. Harry's cheeks burned with embarrassment. With a little gentle prodding from Lupin ( as well as a well thrown package of Chocolate Frogs from Ron), Harry finally broke his silence and told them of his guilt and of the thoughts at night that kept him from sleep.

Remus looked worried, and a brief flicker of sadness and pity flashed across his face. He turned and walked over to the pile of Harry's things that had yet to have been put up properly. From the mess, Remus pulled the rolled parchment out and handed it to Harry. "Read this, Harry, it will help."

"How?" asked Harry, bleary eyed.

"Trust me, Harry, it will help," Lupin replied.

Harry took the scroll and broke the seal, upon which he could have sworn he heard the sound of rolling thunder in the distance. It was too dark to read the scroll properly, so he pulled his wand out from under his pillow and whispered, "Lumos".

The end of the wand brightened, producing just enough light to read by. As Harry sat back to read, Ron and Remus crawled back under their covers and went back to sleep. His eyes went wide as he read the scroll:

_Dear Harry,_

_Please allow me to introduce myself. I am called Lord Thunder, and_

_though you may not know me, I know of you, and not merely as "The Boy Who Lived". I have looked after you the best that I could these past few weeks without having to reveal myself. There are reasons for this, my watching after you._

_You and I are cousins, Harry. Your father, James, was a favorite cousin of mine, and we had a very strong friendship, especially in our younger years. Unfortunately, there were many events in both our lives that we were not able to share with each other, for he and I had chosen different paths. I missed his Hogwarts graduation, he and Lilly's wedding, and your birth, to name the important ones. _

_It saddened me greatly when he and Lilly were murdered. I tried to take you in, and raise you in a loving family, but Albus Dumbledore convinced me that the blood bond between you and your mother's sister would protect you. _

_I still am not convinced it was the right thing to do, especially in light of how they treated you. By the Deity, it broke my heart, as well as the hearts of those whom else you are related to, when we discovered the abuse you had to endure. I truly wept when I thought about you not being loved as you should have been. I makes my heart ache, still. You may not be able to forgive me for leaving you with the Dursleys. I do not deserve forgiveness, nor shall I ask for it._

_I still believe I could have protected you, but there were other considerations, as well._

_Your aunt and her family needed protection, just as you did. The blood magic that protected you, protected them as well. Dumbledore and I set additional barriers to protect you from Voldemort and his followers, just as we have recently at your friend' s place._

_These barriers not only protect you, but shield your location from the Death Eaters. They would never be able to find you through wizarding means._

_Now, for the main purpose of this letter. From what I have observed, you have not properly rested or slept for quite a while now. I believe I know the cause of your misery. It is your scar._

_There still appears to be a link between you and Voldemort. While he may no longer be able to implant false visions in your mind, he can implant strong emotions and thoughts there when you begin to relax. When you start to fall asleep is when you are at your weakest; it is that way for everyone._

_There is, however, a defense. It is a type of Occlumency, one that is much easier to learn with the special connection you have to your foe. Prof. Snape should have thought of this, but his mind works in such befuddled ways at times. Follows these instructions very carefully…_

Harry slowly opened his eyes, and saw nothing. There was nothing but total darkness, a darkness so thick that he felt that he could not move, nor could he breath. His muscles felt as if they were frozen solid. He felt as if he were trying to breath underwater, and began to panic. He didn't want to die in this lonely place.

After a few seconds, he finally started to get some feeling back in his limbs, but not much. His breath finally started to come back to him, but it wasn't deep or refreshing. He knew that he wasn't going to get enough air this way, but it was getting a bit better as he started to concentrate on merely breathing. Slowly, ever so slowly, he was finally able to draw breaths that were somewhat closer to normal. The panic began to subside.

The darkness, however, did not subside. It was still as thick and deadening as ever. The hair on the back of his neck began to stand on end, for he felt as if a thousand wicked eyes were bearing down into him. Harry thought he could hear little whispers off in the distance, and so strained his hearing to the limit to listen. Panic suddenly set in, and he fought to close off the whispers. He succeeded, and all he was able to hear now was the beating of his heart as it tried to tear itself from his chest.

Something in the sounds had brought about a supreme feeling of fear, and Harry had no desire to repeat the experience. This standing alone in the dark just would not do, Harry thought to himself.

With maximum effort, Harry gathered all his strength, and forced his hand around to his back pocket. He hoped and prayed that what he was looking for was there, and much to his delight, Harry's hand wrapped around the handle of his wizarding wand. He removed it from his pocket, and forced his arm back around.

"Lumos," he whispered, as the tip of his wand released a point of bluish light that illuminated an area approximately six feet around him. Warmth immediately flooded his body, causing movement to come so much more easily. Harry rejoiced, until he noticed the whispers were much louder now.

"Hello?" Harry called out, but there was no answer but his own echoed voice. He caught a glimpse of something sickly green flicker out of the corner of his eye, just outside the range of the light.

"Who's out there?" he demanded, this time to be answered by the whispers, all of which sounded horridly familiar. More flashes of green appeared at the edges of the light, daring to venture out of the shadows for the merest fraction of a second. They now appeared to look like green smoke trails, slithering outside the light like ghostly serpents, circling Harry as if they were sharks and he were a particularly inviting fish.

Harry continued to observe the little flashes of green as the smoky wisps continued their assault on his little circle of light. One would break from the group and dive into the edge of the circle, only to bounce back as if it hit a brick wall, releasing an angry hiss every time it was forced to retreat. The whispers got louder every time one of the wisps edged closer.

"For the last time, who are you?!" Harry yelled, this time answered by demonic laughter. Harry's blood froze in his veins, for he recognized the laugh. It was the evil laughter of Tom Riddle.

"Come out to where I can see you, coward!!" demanded Harry to the endless darkness. The laughter grew in power, as the circle of light seemed to grow dimmer. Harry took a step forward, forcing the wisps to retreat to avoid the circle's shielding rays. This gave Harry an idea.

"Lumos Maxima!!" he called out with all his heart, as he extended the wand fully above his head. A burst of light reminiscent of an exploding star came forth from the wand, and illuminated everything for as far as the eye could see.

The wisps screamed, and vanished as if they never existed. Harry was triumphant, but felt a palpable sense of fury. Something was extremely angry at his actions. Serves them right, he thought to himself.

Harry looked around, trying to locate the source of the fury. The room was set in a grayish tone, and seemed to stretch forever. In the distance, he saw a bright point of light, one that seemed to pulsate, calling out to him. He answered the call, and took off running toward the light, still holding his lit wand high above his head.

Shortly, Harry stood before a shaft of dazzling light, emanating from a spot on the far, distant ceiling. Hovering in the shaft, right around chest level, as a large silver sphere. It reminded Harry of a giant version of the ball in a pinball game.

Something about the sphere beckoned Harry to touch it, despite what should have been better sense. Caution should be the word of the day, but no one had every accused Harry Potter of being overly cautious. He reached out and touched the sphere, which pulsated with the same warmth as the shaft of light in which it was suspended. As he felt the perfect smoothness of it, he suddenly realized that this is what had been calling to him.

Deciding on a course of action, Harry placed his free hand under the sphere and tried to remove it, but it refused to budge. No matter how hard he fought it, the large silver ball just would not move. Stepping back a moment, he battled with himself over what he should do. It eventually came down to two choices: Use both hands and try to pull the ball free, letting loose of his wand to do so, or ignore the mystery, and look about for some other clues as to what was going on.

Harry knew that looking for other clues would do no good, he could walk forever and not find a thing. Reluctantly, Harry extinguished his wand, fearing the return of the greenish wisps. Much to his surprise, the room remained lit at the same level his wand had provided. Putting his wand away, he took both hands and placed them around the sphere, preparing to wrestle it free of the light.

Suddenly, the ball fell right into his hands. Interesting, Harry thought to himself. He withdrew it from the light, and turned it over in his hands. The surface seemed flawless, with the exception of one small area, about the size of a soda bottle lid. It had an impression in it shaped ,oddly enough, like an old knight's shield.

A shield? What could that mean, he wondered. There was a little niggling in the back of his mind, something to do with the shield, if he could only remember. What did he know about shields? The only thing he knew of shields was a shielding spell.

A spell! Well, a charm, really, but that had to be it! That was the something floating around in the back of his mind. Holding the sphere in one had, he pulled his wand back out and pointed it at the enigmatic object.

"Protego!" he called out, and with that, the sphere released a large, blinding flash. When his eyes cleared, Harry saw that the sphere was gone, replaced by a slightly curved, metal shield. It was pleasingly light, and had two straps on the back side for Harry to put his arm through, which he did promptly. It seemed to fit him like a glove, as if it were made for him, and for him alone.

What do I do with it now?, he wondered. Harry then noticed a faint tingling in the scar upon his forehead. It didn't hurt, nor was it uncomfortable, but he felt as if it were trying to tell him something. Slowly he turned around, and the buzzing, as he began to think if it, became a little weaker.

Quickly, Harry spun around in the opposite direction, causing his scar to go off like a hive of angry bees. It still was not painful, but he feared the vibrations would shake his teeth loose. This direction seem to be the one to the source, he decided, and took off in that direction at a brisk pace. What he saw after traveling for a few seconds stopped him, dead in his tracks.

A solid black wall appeared before him, but that was not the strange part. Etched into the center of the wall, was a large gash, formed in the shape of a lightning bolt. It was the exact shape as the scar on his head, only a hundred times larger. A red tinged light seemed to issue forth from it, causing an eerie glow that lit up the immediate area. Every once in a while, a little green flash appeared on the edge of the gash, then streaked off into the darkness, as far away from the light as it could go. Harry was soon violently thrown from his feet from behind.

_You killed me, Harry!_

Harry's heart jumped into his throat. He slowly pulled himself back onto his feet, trying desperately to calm his heart and his breathing. Soon, all too soon, he was thrown to the floor once more.

_Why, Harry? I was your godfather!_

_You should have died that night, Harry, not me!_

_What would your parents think?_

He curled up into a ball to protect himself, but the violent assault on his person continued unabated. He was struck from the side, then the front, then once more from behind, continuously. The panic started to set in, and all Harry wanted to do was to make the voices stop. There had to be a way, he desperately thought. His wand had fallen from his pocket, and now lay just beyond his reach. He stretched as far as he could, but all that did was to provide whatever was attacking him a larger target. The attacks seemed to double in intensity.

_Sirius is dead because of me!_

_I'm dead, and you're alive!_

_How can you live with yourself?_

Harry just wanted to scream, but he would not let whoever was doing this have the satisfaction. He opened one eye just a bit, and caught a glimpse of one of the greenish wisps streaking for him. On impulse, he threw his arm up to block it. It just happened to be the arm bearing his shield. The wisp hit the shield at full speed, bounced off, and screamed in agony as it utterly vanished.

That's it, he thought, the shield! Looking about, Harry saw another wisp lining up to make an attack run on him. The wisp suddenly sped up and charged at Harry, but just before it hit, he struck it with the shield. It had the same effect a before, which brought a brief sense of triumph and joy to Harry's long suffering heart.

More and more wisps attacked Harry, and more and more wisps were dispatched just as easily. However, for every three wisps he destroyed, one would make it through. This was starting to take it's toll on Harry, as the doubts and fears began to, once more, lodge a place within his heart and mind. He had to stop this at the source!

After blocking two more wisps, Harry followed the buzzing in his head once more, and turned to face the gash in the wall. The little green flashes were appearing faster and faster at the edges of the gash, streaking off into the distance before turning once more to attack him. Holding the shield in front of him, Harry charged at the gash, fury blazing in his eyes, and anger pouring from his heart. He struck the wall at full speed.

Then promptly bounced off and landed on his rump. Shaken up a bit, Harry just sat there for a second and discovered that his attack did have a slight effect. All the green flashes had vanished, and it was taking a while for others to form. After adjusting his glasses, which sat askew on his nose after the dramatic, yet pointless charge, he gathered himself together and walked over to the gash.

Harry studied the gash for a few moments, then noticed the green flashes were getting ready to launch themselves once more. Removing the shield from his arm and holding it with two hands, he set it up to the gash, destroying the newly formed flashes. He, then, threw all his weight into trying to force the shield to stick to the wall, but this did not seem to work. Well, I can't stay here holding this bloody thing forever, he thought. There had to be a way to get it to stick. A permanent sticking spell, perhaps?

A huge green flash, larger than any he had seen before, struck the shield and threw Harry a good twenty feet from the gash, landing on his shield. Harry moaned with pain from the shield digging into his back. Looking up, Harry saw something so familiar, yet so alien, that it caused his heart to skip a beat. Fear coursed through him like it only had once before, and that was back when Tom Riddle came back to life and tried to kill Harry.

A large green wisp, shaped more like a serpent than a wisp, with glowing red eyes, hovered above Harry. A small mouth slit formed, exposing two enormous fangs, dripping with venom. Small drops of venom escaped it's mouth and splashed on the hard floor, burning little holes where it struck. The serpent wisp came much closer to Harry, now barely more than two feet away, coiling up and priming with power. With a move as quick as lightning, it struck at Harry.

Harry was a tad faster, though, and rolled off the shield and held it forth to protect himself. The serpent wisp struck the shield with such force it slid Harry back another ten feet, but the shield did it's job and protected Harry. The serpent wisp swung back away from Harry, and started moving in a circle back around him, just outside the range on the shield.

"You cannot esssssssscape me, Harry Potter!" the serpent wisp called out in a familiar voice, the same voice Harry had heard earlier.

"You don't scare me, Riddle!" he cried out at the top of his voice. The eyes of the serpent flashed at the sound of it's proper name.

"How dare you call me by that name, mudblood?!" demanded the serpent, striking at Harry once more, who deflected the attack off to the side, causing it to go astray.

"You call me 'mudblood'?" Harry sneered at the serpent, hoping to score a few more points, "Both of my parents were wizards, Riddle, your father was a Muggle! How would your followers like to know that?"

"Don't call me by that name!" ordered the serpent, it's eyes glowing redder and redder, "I cassssst off my father and hisssss name long ago, boy! I am Lord Voldemort, now! The greatesssst wizard the world hassss ever ssssseen! I shall cleanssssse world of mudbloodssss and Mugglessss, and only I shall reign ssssupreme!!" it screeched as it attacked Harry once more.

Once more, Harry was ready, and deflected the attack, "It must truly be an awful thing, to hate yourself! You even had to make up a silly name to make yourself feel better!" Harry jeered, "Wait, I was wrong! Not silly, but stupid! A stupid name for a stupid person, with stupid goals. Even your followers are stupid to believe in you! You are nothing but a stupid git!"

"HOW DARE YOU!!" screamed the serpent, "You, who are nothing compared to me!" Venom now poured from it's jaws, forming massive pools of steaming slime all around Harry as the serpent , floating in the air, continued to circle him .

"Nothing?!" shouted back Harry, "If I'm so beneath you, why have I always defeated you? How many times has it been, Riddle? Five times that I can think of!!"

The serpent reared it head back and screamed in fury at Harry's pronouncement. It's huge fangs glistened in the eerie light from the gash, and venom sprayed in all directions, causing Harry to duck back behind the shield to protect himself . Drops hit the shield, but to Harry's satisfaction, left no mark whatsoever.

With renewed vigor, the serpent attacked Harry several more times, and each attack was deflected in turn. It hissed angrily each time, still not believing that Harry could repulse it's assaults. However, Harry was growing tired now, his adrenaline finally beginning to give out. His arms were turning to lead, and he felt weak in the knees. His determination remained strong, though, and he held his shield high, glaring at the serpent over the edge.

However, the serpent, for it's part, showed that it had more than one trick up it's nonexistent sleeve. Harry noticed that the head seemed to shudder somewhat, then the color of the wisp seemed to fade a bit. Dark lines formed on head, running from the nose to about halfway down it's body. The shuddering continued to grow in violence, until the wisp's head seemed to start to tear itself apart.

Harry only wished for it to rend itself asunder, but this was not the case. Before Harry's terrified eyes, the wisp's head split into seven separate heads, each one connected at a common point on it's body. The wisp solidified once more into a floating serpent, one that was seven times deadlier than the one before. Seven sets of fangs now targeted Harry for destruction, and for once, Harry could not figure out how he was going to get out of this one. He could deflect one head, but the other six would kill him. Despair started to set itself in Harry's heart.

"Do you ssssee now, Potter?," seven angry heads hissed at him in unison, "Do you ssssee my power? You never defeated me, dolt! You merely delayed the inevitable five timesss over! You are nothing compared to me, an insssect who'sss annoying bitesss merely awaken the monssster! Prepare to die now, Potter!!"

Harry steeled himself for the coming blows, knowing now that death was near, that what would have happened in the graveyard two years ago was merely postponed. He regretted dying, and regretted the things he would miss, especially his friends. He did hope they would find each other soon, for the two together were stronger than the sum of their parts. He would truly miss seeing them happy. But I'm not going down without a fight, he thought to himself. Riddle is going to hurt after this night.

The seven headed monstrosity reared back it's heads, quivering with the build up of energy that was soon to be released. It's red eyes actually seemed to show joy at what was about to take place. It could just sod off for all I care, Harry thought. At least I'll finally see my Mom and Dad! This gave Harry a needed boost, and he stood tall and defiant, daring the serpent to attack. He was ready. The serpent struck!

"ENOUGH!!" called out a deep, commanding voice, one so loud that it shook the room. A bolt of lightning, larger than one Harry had ever seen before, shot from the ceiling and wrapped itself around the serpent wisp, holding it tight, mere inches from Harry. The serpent screamed in agony as Harry took several steps back to distant himself from the wisp and the energy flowing around it. That voice sounded very familiar to Harry, he just couldn't place it, precisely.

"Harry," a smaller voice called out to him, this one from just off to the side, though no one stood there, " You know what must be done, you must use your shield!"

" I tried that," Harry whispered back, "It didn't work! Something must be wrong with it!"

"There is nothing wrong with it," the voice called back, " you have to use your strength to seal the breech. The shield isn't complete, yet. I'll hold him here, you must finish your task! Use all your strength, Harry! Do it now!!"

"Who are you ?" demanded Harry.

"You know who I am, but you must hurry! GO!!" the voice commanded.

Harry, holding his shield high, turned and faced the gash. The serpent renewed it's attempt at freeing itself, as Harry ran at full speed past it, shield held in front, braced by his shoulder. As he ran, he noticed that the tail of the serpent was still deep within the gash. Closing off the gash would kill off the wisp, he realized. He had to use all his strength, and every bit of strength he got from his friends, his parents, and now it seemed, from one other.

"Ron! Hermione!" he called out as he charged toward the gash. The shield took on a bluish glow.

"Mom! Dad!" Harry cried out, even louder than before, as the shield glowed even brighter. He was now only a few yards from the gash.

"Dumbledore!" his voice grew in volume with every step he took, every name he invoked. The glow of the shield was to the point of being painful to the eyes, now. He was three feet from the gash.

"THUNDER!!!" he called out, causing the glow to surge in power, blanketing everything in the room in a pure curtain of white light. Nothing could be seen. He was now one foot from the gash.

"NOOOOOOOO!" screamed the serpent, still locked in it's cage of lightning.

"PROTEGO!!!" Harry commanded, and with that, just inches from the gash, the shield transformed itself into a perfect match for the shape of the hole. With every bit of strength he had, Harry slammed it into place…

…and Harry's head snapped backward suddenly as he sat in the bed. His eyes grew heavier than they ever had been in his life, and he fell forward, into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Harry was in a state of total shock at what waited him downstairs. Streamers and banners were strung from every available space, as magically illuminated balloons floated throughout the living and dining areas. The table was set with a feast that made the one the night before pale in comparison. In the center of the table sat a huge birthday cake. He was a bit embarrassed at the spread set out before him. He wasn't used to anyone making a big fuss out of his birthday.

"Happy birthday, Harry!" everyone cried out in unison. He would have sworn they practiced it that way, for everyone was perfectly timed to the others.

"Thanks, everybody!" he said as he walked over to meet them. He flushed a bit, not used to such a fuss. Then, he noticed something: Everyone was dressed up in their finest clothing. All the Weasleys wore their dress robes, and Hermione was wearing a very pretty dress. Harry noticed that Ron was glancing at Hermione out of the corner of his eye. Harry grinned as the twins came forward and gave him a pat on the back, then Mrs. Weasley rushed over and gave him a quick hug, followed by Hermione. He felt a right prig for being dressed in his everyday hand-me-downs from Dudley.

Ron walked over and the two shared a manly handshake, "Happy birthday, mate!"

"Thanks, Ron!," Harry replied, then looked at the mass of food on the table," You didn't go through too much trouble, did you?"

"No, no, dear, no trouble at all," Mrs. Weasley piped in as she ushered him to the table, followed, once more, by everyone else. "After all, it's not everyday that a young man turns sixteen, now is it?"

"And" Ginny cut in, "we're celebrating Hermione's as well, since we'll be at Hogwarts when her birthday comes around."

Now Harry felt really bad. He didn't have a present for Hermione yet, he was planning getting her one when they went to Diagon Alley to get their school supplies. "Well, at least I should go upstairs and get something better on," he said, hoping to find something he could give her right fast.

"Nothing doing, Harry," the twins said in unison , "Don't worry about it! It's just all of us, right? We dressed up for you, it's your day! Now tuck in!"

"Mum told us to," Ginny whispered in Harry's ear as everyone was filling their plates, "she threatened to take a ladle to Fred and George if they didn't stop complaining and do as she said!" Harry snickered a bit, drawing Mrs. Weasley's attention.

"Everything all right, Harry?" she asked with concern in her voice.

"Everything's great, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said with a huge grin on his face. He later discovered that Lupin and Professor McGonagall had left earlier that morning to carry out business for the Order. He did miss them a somewhat.

Soon, after stomachs were full, and cake had been served, presents were pasted around to Harry and Hermione. Harry still felt the heel for not having a present ready for Hermione, but Ginny reassured him, with a friendly pat on the leg.

"Don't worry about it, Harry," she said, "You didn't know we had this planned. No one will look down on you for not having anything ready yet, especially Hermione." She was interrupted by a loud squeal coming from the other end of the table.

"Oh, Thank you, Ron! Thank you!" beamed Hermione as she held a rather old looking book to her chest with one arm and hugging Ron with the other, "Do you know how long I've been looking for a copy of this? How did you find it?"

Ron's face was a mixture of happy and embarrassed as Hermione sat back, not even realizing what she had done, and continued to stare at the book. "Err, well yes, I heard you mention that you wanted a copy of it, and as soon as I found one, I just had to get it for you! I hope you like it!"

"Ron found it at an old book shop at Diagon Alley," Ginny whispered to Harry, "They were using it as a door stop. If Ron hadn't tripped over it, he never would have found it! He had been looking in every book shop there for weeks now. He used up all his savings to buy it for her."

"I'm not surprised a bit!" Harry replied, noticing that Ginny looked particularly lovely that morning, with her long red hair pulled back behind one ear, and capped off with a silver hairclip in the shape of a griffin. Harry blushed a bit.

"What's wrong?," Ginny asked, noticing the red in his cheeks.

" Nothing," Harry replied quickly, "Err, I just wish I had something for Hermione." He felt around in his pants pockets, and pulled out a small black box, emblazoned with the same stylized 'T' as the wax seal on the parchment he had read last night. It had a tag on it, stating: To Hermione, From Harry. He seems to think of everything, Harry thought to himself.

"What's that?" Ginny asked.

"Oh, I just remembered," Harry said, recovering quickly, "I did have a gift for her. The chaos of the last few weeks, you know. Happy Birthday, Hermione!" he said as he gave her the box.

"Thank you, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed as she took the box from him and opened it. She gasped as she opened it. Inside was a thin silver chain, attached to which was a pendant in the shape of a lightning bolt. It was made of a blue, translucent gemstone, and rimmed with silver. If looked at close enough, one could see little sparkles of energy floating within the pendant. Hermione beamed as she put it about her neck.

"It's lovely, Harry! Where did you get it?"

"Uh, it's a family heirloom," Harry said, "It was given to me recently by a distant relative. I thought you might like it."

"Like it? I love it!" she cried as a small tear escaped the corner of her eye, "You and Ron are the best!" Much to everyone's surprise, Hermione got up from the table, gave Ron a hug and ran around the table to give Harry one as well. Large grins were plastered on both Ron and Harry's faces at seeing how happy they had made Hermione. Tears of joy gushed from her eyes and slid down her cheeks.

"Oh my, what is your father doing, coming home so early?" Mrs. Weasley wondered as she looked at the Weasley family clock, the one with pictures of all the Weasleys on it numerous hands. Arthur Weasley's hand suddenly clicked from 'traveling' to 'home'.

"Hello, everybody!" Arthur Weasley called out in a jovial voice, his face a bit flush from his travels, "Happy Birthday, Harry! And you to, Hermione! How did everything go? Get lots of nice presents?"

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Weasley!" Hermione replied as Arthur walked over to the table and grabbed a slice of cake.

"Excellent! Excellent!" Arthur said, then turned to Harry, "Sleep well last night, did you Harry?"

"Well, actually, yes I did," Harry answered, caught off guard a bit by the question, "Slept better than I had in weeks!" He wondered how much Mr. Weasley knew about what happened last night.

"Wonderful, Wonderful!" Arthur exclaimed happily.

" Arthur, not that I don't love having you home, but why are you back so early?" Mrs. Weasley questioned, with a worried look in her eyes.

"Well, Molly, I have some very good news," Arthur replied, "but perhaps it's best if we spoke in the kitchen, first…" All eyes suddenly turned in his direction as he lead his wife away from the assembled teenagers.

"Wonder what that's all about," grumbled Ron, who hated having things hidden from him.

"We know how to fix that," Fred grinned mischievously.

"Indeed we do!" George replied as he pulled an item from his pocket. "Our new prototype Extendable Ear, The Weasley Mk II. Let's just see what they're on about," he added just as a shriek pierced the house. Everyone jumped in their seats as they heard Molly Weasley scream at the top of her voice.

"You're what?!"

End of Chapter Four.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five: An Unwelcome Guest.

The day was warm and clear, the perfect kind of mid-August day, one in which parents and children both would be making plans for picnics, family walks, and general laziness. It was the kind of day Argus Filch hated with a passion. Too bleeding cheery, he thought to himself. Give him a good thunderstorm, anytime. The students loved days like this.

Students, feh! They were nothing but a pain in the bum, in his eyes. To make things worse, there was nothing he could really do to punish them. He wasn't allowed to whip them anymore, or torture them, much to his distress. He was nothing but a joke to them, and he knew it. He was the school caretaker, and worse, a Squib in a castle full of wizards.

Plain and simple, he hated the students. They caused him nothing but pain and misery, and he did his best to return it in kind. Every time he was entitled to punish a student, he did it with relish, using the most tedious, or most vile punishments he could get away with.

Filch mourned the removal of Dolores Umbridge as headmaster of Hogwarts. She was the best thing that had happened to Hogwarts in a very long time. She understood the need to punish the students in the harshest tones available. He got a twinkle in his eye when she showed him her special quill, the one that she used on that no account brat, Harry Potter. It still left him with a warm place in his heart.

Umbridge had actually gotten permission from the Minster of Magic to allow him to start using corporal punishments once again. Oh happy day, his heart had leapt to unknown heights when she gave him word of the news! His first victims were to be the Weasley Twins, however, they had other plans. They escaped just prior to getting the punishment they so richly deserved.

Argus' heart broke when they soared off into the distance, laughing and jeering at him as they always had! To add insult to injury, they had created a huge mess in one of the Halls. He had to clean most of it up, but a small section was roped off, as an example of student brilliance. It just sat there, day after day, mocking him. Every time he tried to sneak out at night to clean it up on the sly, he was instantly thrown back several feet. It seems that Dumbledore loved his 'portable swamp'! He would, the ruddy old coot!

Still, Filch had three weeks left, before the little urchins began to arrive for term. Three weeks of total, studentless bliss! After finishing his duties for the day ( they always went much faster without the students present!), he walked over to his favorite window in the castle. It gave him the perfect view of the grounds, as well as the path leading to Hogsmeade village.

Though it was still too bright and sunny, he longed to escape the castle, for a short time, and travel to the village as fast as his legs could carry him. His favorite pub wasn't too far away, and he could do with a nice glass or two of firewhiskey. His parched mouth watered at the thought, as he looked forward to a day at the tavern, savoring his favorite drink. It would brighten his mood up somewhat, or at least allow him to forget his sorrows, he thought to himself.

He was just about to turn and head for the castle entrance, when his cat, Mrs. Norris, appeared at his feet. She was extremely agitated, and proceeded to circle around and through his legs, crying loudly. She stopped after a moment and sat just before the toes of his boots, blocking his way.

"What is it, my sweet?" he queried as she stood back up and cried incessantly. It had been a very long time since she had last acted like this, so he knew, deep within his shriveled and cold heart, that something was amiss.

"What is wrong?' he asked as she leapt to his boot tops and caught them with her claws, then launched herself from there to the ledge of the window. There she stood and stared, her cries getting louder and louder. Filch turned his head and stared in the same direction indicated by his cat. He saw nothing.

"Come on, let's get you down from there before you fall," Filch said as he reached over to pick her up. Much to his surprise and dismay, Mrs. Norris hissed, and swiped at him with her claws. Filch pulled his hand back, utterly shocked. She had never done _that_ before!

"Meow! Meow! Meow!!" she continued to cry urgently.

"What has gotten into you, Mrs. Norris?" begged Filch. "There is nothing out there!" he stated as he, once more, stared back out the window in the direction indicated by his crazy cat. He continued to stare, straining his eyesight to the limit.

Just as he was about to give up, a small flicker of movement caught his eye. It was just off to where the road leading to and from Hogwarts curved around the edge of the forest and disappeared. At first, it seemed to be a single gray dot, slowly moving at a steady pace, in the direction of the castle.

As the gray dot grew closer, Filch realized it wasn't a single figure that he had spied, but two. The taller was covered in a black, hooded cloak, and marched at a steady, unwavering gait. The second, and smaller, figure appeared to be a large white dog. Something about the sight before him tugged at his memory, then suddenly, his eyes widened in a flash of recognition.

"Oh, this is not good! Not good at all!" Filch murmured to himself. "Go let Professor Snape know what is happening, Mrs. Norris! I'll deal with this situation!"

His cat streaking down the corridors towards the dungeons to alert the Potions Master, Filch ran back to his office, and pulled his cabinet of contraband items from the wall. After tapping three bricks in a specific order, a small hole in the wall magically appeared. It revealed a round bit of wood, just inside the edge of the hole.

Grinning fiercely, Filch reached in and pulled forth a long wooden spear, topped by a rather wicked looking steel blade. Though the wood appeared to be a bit old, the blade itself gleamed as bright as it had on the day it was made, so very long ago. It was of a Roman design with a red stain that was ingrained in the steel on both sides, and Filch could tell that it had seen use in the distant past. Filch had purchased it from a mystic weaponsmith for occasions such as this. It had cost him a year's savings, and was supposed to be proof against magics. Now was the time to test it.

Filch felt as if power flowed into him as he grasped the wicked looking spear. Gripping it tightly in both hands, he ran from his office towards the Entrance Hall, heading for the huge castle doors that served to protect the interior of the castle, and lead to the open castle grounds.

Filch stood just outside the doors, facing the direction of the main gate. He was shocked to see that the two figures were already entering the main gate. All the color drained from his already pale face when he realized that the large white dog was actually a large white wolf! A figure in black, next to a white wolf, could mean only one thing, and it was the one thing that he had feared from the start.

"You!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, pointing the spear at the approaching figures. He saw that the tip of the blade was shaking, and realized that it was his whole body that was trembling. He felt something warm trickling down his legs. He, in his wildest nightmares, had never thought he would ever have this confrontation!

"Just stop right there!" Filch ordered, as he felt warmth and strength flow from the spear into his cold, shivering limbs, "You have no right to be here! Be off with you!"

"Argus Filch," the robed figure called out in a deep, rumbling voice, causing Filch's blood to run cold, " I have business within. Please, do not attempt to impede me."

The hooded man and the wolf continued to march steadily toward Filch and the Entry doors. Filch could see the fur on the wolf's shoulders begin to stand on end, as it's lips pulled back and revealed large, white fangs that gleamed in the sunlight. A deep growl reverberated throughout the courtyard, sending waves of chills up and down Filch's spine. This was soon replaced by added warmth from the spear, as Filch now started to feel a slight vibration start up within the spear itself.

"Now, now, Kiba," the stranger said as he reached down and patted the top of the wolf's head, "Mr. Filch truly means us no harm. He is simply misinformed. We are expected."

"I mean you no harm, eh? Take one step more and find out!" Filch answered back, teeth gritted and face set in his finest scowl. As the pair continued to advance, Filch planted his feet and lunged with the spear, despite the fact the pair were still out of range.

"I warned ye!" snarled Filch, "Come no closer!" His hair began to stand on end as he continued to feel the power coming from the spear, the tip of which began to brighten until a solid point of light formed and shone like a miniature star.

An audible sigh escaped the robed figure as he and the wolf continued to advance toward the castle. Stretching out his hand toward Filch, the hooded one pointed a single finger in the direction of the obstruction. Filch cried out as his magical spear was wrenched from his hands, and stuck in the ground a good ten feet from where Filch had stood.

As for Filch himself, he was thrown from his feet by an invisible hand, and deposited ten feet in the opposite direction from the spear. He landed hard on his rear, driving the breath from him. The way to the castle was completely open. He sat there in emotional agony, as tears began to form in his weathered eyes. He had failed.

The stranger walked over to where the spear now stood, and carefully, almost reverently, removed it from the ground and cleaned the filth from it's blade. He stared at it in the bright sunlight before turning, once more, in Filch's direction. A look of absolute fright masked Filch's face. This was it, he thought to himself, done in by his own weapon.

"I apologize, Mr. Filch," the hooded man said as he stood there with the spear cradled in his arms, "It truly was not my intention to treat you roughly this day, nor any other day. As I said before, I am expected."

"Sod off!" moaned Filch, staring daggers at his opponent.

"I am curious as to how you acquired the Spear," inquired the stranger.

"I bought, all good and legal! I still have the receipt, if you want to see it!" Filch spat out.

"I see. Well, Mr. Filch, treat it well, and put it back in it's proper place. It is not yet time to wield it." the stranger replied as he stretched out the hand that held the spear. Opening his hand, he turned back toward the castle doors and walked off, leaving the spear floating in mid-air. "Come, Kiba."

As the pair proceeded, unmolested, toward the castle door, they stopped just prior to the entrance. Mrs. Norris sat there, staring at them with her eerie red-orange eyes. The white wolf, Kiba, marched up to the stationary cat and sniffed at her for a few moments, lowering his head and standing nose to nose with her.

Finally, Mrs. Norris walked over to the robed figure and rubbed up against his legs, purring rather loudly. Filch just sat there, utterly stunned, for his cat had never reacted that way to anyone other than himself. The stranger knelt down in front of the cat and scratched the top of her head, as he stared into her eyes. Her purring just got louder, as she nuzzled her head into the palm of his hand.

"Go to him," he whispered to the cat, "His pride is injured, and he has need of your care." With that said, Mrs. Norris ran over to Filch and leapt upon his chest, rubbing against his face. She purred lovingly in his ear.

"Mrs. Norris?" Filch whispered hoarsely, as his beloved cat continued to minister to his wounded ego. He reached up and hugged her to his chest, his eyes crinkling tightly as he continued to whisper to her.

"Kiba," the stranger said, as he spun around and grabbed the wolf by the scruff of it's neck, wrestling playfully with the large white lupine. "Go down to Hagrid's place and let him that I have arrived. I'm pretty sure that he has several…_friends_… that you can play with." The wolf grinned, but continued to sit there for a few moments more.

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid that I shall cause enough of an uproar of my own. Let's allow them to get used to us first, before they start seeing a large wolf roaming the halls!" the hooded one explained. Kiba bounded off toward the stone hut in the distance, as the dark stranger stood once more, and entered Hogwarts Castle proper.

The Halls of the castle were blissfully empty as the stranger marched, ever closer, to his destination. There was no alarm, no screaming, no shrieks of terror. He was eternally grateful for this, for a disturbance was the last thing he wanted. He marched down the final corridor, the one that ended with a large, stone gargoyle, when the first signs of trouble he had the misfortune to experience since he had entered the castle, arrived.

A thin, dark haired man, dressed in black robes, sprung out of a classroom a good twenty feet before the stranger, and pointed a wand in his direction. "Hold!" commanded Severus Snape, "do not move one more step!"

"Please, I have not the time for delays," the stranger growled, his mood somewhat dampened by the appearance of the Potions Master.

"I said, do not…urk!" barked Snape, as an invisible force lifted him from his feet and threw him back into the classroom from where he had erupted. There was a muffled curse, then a crash from the door as Snape attempted to force it open, to no avail.

The hooded one just smiled as he walked past, knowing that it would take quite a while for Snape to escape. He continued on his way, until he was before the fierce-looking, stone gargoyle . He barely broke stride as the stone guardian suddenly became animated, and leapt out of the way, revealing a stone, spiral staircase. He proceeded up the steps, leaving the sounds of Snape's escape attempts further and further behind.

"Enter," came a voice from the other side of the large wooden door that marked the entrance to the office of Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts.

The hooded figure walked through the doorway and into the large circular office of the Headmaster. It was filled with a universe of fascinating, magical items. A desk, cluttered with a myriad of parchments, books, candy wrappers, and a large golden head, stood at the back wall.

Next to it stood a tall perch, upon which sat a handsome bird, plumed in scarlet and orange. The stranger recognized it immediately as Dumbledore's pet phoenix, Fawkes. The bird looked at the hooded man and called out softly.

"Yes, yes, Fawkes," a voice called out from the balcony overhead, "I realize that our guest has arrived. Please, find a chair and have a seat, I shall be down momentarily."

"Thank you, sir," the stranger called back as he produced a treat from the folds of his cloak and gave it to Fawkes, who chirped out a note of thanks. An overly stuffed chair appeared behind the stranger, in which he sat and waited, patiently.

A few moments later, Albus Dumbledore glided down the curved staircase and took his place behind the desk, and proceeded to clean the numerous candy wrappers from the work area.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice."

" It was my pleasure, sir," the hooded man replied as he nodded his head forward, and saluted the headmaster with his fist over his heart.

"Chocolate frog?" Dumbledore asked as he offered a package to his guest. The stranger just laughed for a moment before throwing his hood back.

"Oh, my!" exclaimed Dumbledore in mock surprise, " A Knight without his armour! What would the _Daily Prophet_ think?"

The stranger accepted the sweet treat from Dumbledore with a smile, as he shook his head free of the hood. His long brown hair had two long braids, one at each temple, with a small silver chain woven into the braid at the left temple. The rest of his hair hung loosely at the back, and spread out over his shoulders. His eyes were dark brown, almost black, and seemed to twinkle from within, as if he were enjoying an inside joke, or planning some sort of mischief. The nose wasn't long, but it more than made up for it in width, and was ever so slightly upturned at the tip. The neatly trimmed goatee helped to lengthen the rounded face, and the darkened skin proved that the stranger didn't come from anywhere within the British Isles, but instead hailed from warmer climes.

"Well," the Knight replied as he sat back and relaxed a bit before enjoying his snack, "I felt that my presence alone would cause enough of a stir. If I had arrived, armed and armoured, the reception I received would have been a bit cooler than I would have wished."

Dumbledore snorted and smiled under his thick moustache, "I trust that all went well?"

"Well enough," the Knight shrugged, "The caretaker has a sore bum at the moment, and Professor Snape is probably put out at being locked in an empty classroom. Other than that, no worries!"

The headmaster proceeded to laugh loud enough to startle Fawkes, who squawked a bit before Dumbledore calmed down. "I guess I should see to Severus before he does himself a mischief," he said as he picked his wand up from a pile of debris on the desk, and made a tiny circle in the air with it.

"Your caretaker has a rather interesting weapon," the Knight continued as he and Dumbledore sat waiting for the arrival of Professor Snape.

"Really?" asked the headmaster, "I wasn't even aware he had one in his possession."

"He keeps it in a hole in the wall of his office," replied the Knight. " As for the weapon itself, it's a spear, about seven feet long. It's of Roman design, with a red stained blade, and is about two thousand years old, though it looks as if it were forged yesterday. It is very resistant to destructive magic."

"Indeed?" said Dumbledore, a bit startled, "That may explain the strangeness I have felt of late around here. I take it you mean to confiscate this…item?"

"No, no," stated the Knight, "He owns it, having legally purchased it. It seems that he is unable to properly employ it's abilities, so I see no threat. But, perhaps, you may wish to place some additional safeguards, at least until the time that it is truly needed."

"Yes," the headmaster shook his head, "That would seem in order, without his knowledge, of course."

"Of course," agreed his guest.

"So," Dumbledore said as he got up from behind his desk, walked around and sat on the corner nearest the Knight, "What is the news from the outside? Is there any sign of the Dark Lord's movements?" he asked as he leaned forward to speak softly to his guest.

"That will have to wait for a few moments, after Professor Snape has his say," the Knight replied as the door burst open, and a rather disheveled looking Professor Snape barged into the office.

"Headmaster! I must warn you that there is a…" Snape trailed off as he saw who was sitting before Dumbledore.

"Ah, Severus! I would invite you in, but you seem to have taken care of that!" Dumbledore said with a grin, "Please allow me to introduce our guest." The Knight stood and turned toward Snape, extending a hand as Dumbledore continued to speak, " This is Sir Vladimir Maximus Zachariah von Weighant."

"I know who he is," snarled Snape as he slapped the offered hand away, as if it were a venomous serpent, "He's an accursed Knight!"

"Actually, Severus, he is a Knight Commander," Dumbledore corrected as he motioned to his left temple, " And the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."

"A pleasure to meet you, Professor Snape! I do apologize for having to lock you in that classroom, but to have stopped and conversed with you would have made me late."

"WHAT!!" screamed Snape as he slapped von Weighant's hand away once more, "You passed me over, yet again, only to appoint a Knight as professor here at Hogwarts? What have I done to deserve this?!"

"Professor Snape," Dumbledore said in a soothing, yet stern tone, "This was not done to slight you! These are dark times, and we need a DADA professor that can and will teach the students under our care the things they will need to know to survive. They can only learn so much on their own! Can you think of anyone more qualified than a Knight to prepare the students?" Snape begrudgingly shook his head.

"Besides," continued Dumbledore, trying to sooth Snape's troubled brow, "You are perhaps the finest Potions Master that has ever taught here at Hogwarts. It would be virtually impossible to replace you." Snape still looked sullen, but less so than before Dumbledore's assessment of his abilities. An overstuffed chair appeared behind Snape, as Dumbledore indicated for him to take a seat.

"Now," continued Dumbledore, " Sir Vladimir was just about to update me on his investigations before you arrived, so please, sit and listen."

"As you wish, Headmaster," Snape replied sulkily as he sat stiffly in his chair.

"Please proceed, Professor," Dumbledore encouraged, as von Weighant nodded his head, and sat down once more.

"Thank you, Headmaster," von Weighant answered as he continued his report, "Several days ago, a number of individuals arrived in Siberia, and attacked the Cathedral of St. Godric. My inspection of the scene turned up a few items of note."

"The first was the discovery of several bodies. The first one discovered was that of Bishop Mikhail Raimius, dead from an apparent blast to the chest. Ominously, his Seal of Office was gone, as were the Marks of the Guardian on his arms."

"Surely, you must be mistaken," Snape interjected, "Father Raimius has been missing for years, ever since the Dark Lord's attack on the Monastery, twenty years ago."

"He hasn't been missing, Severus," Dumbledore replied, " the Ministry, as well as the Knights Council, have known of his whereabouts ever since he went to ground. We had hoped him safe."

"So, then how was he found, and who lead the attack?" Snape inquired, with just a bit of a sneer creeping into his voice.

"All the evidence, thus far, points to the Death Eaters, possibly lead by Voldemort himself," answered von Weighant.

"Impossible!" shouted Snape, bolting to his feet, as Dumbledore's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "I would have known about any attack! I would have been there! Besides, Death Eaters do not leave their dead behind, it leaves too much evidence. Thus, your own report has proven your hypothesis incorrect." he added with a smug grin.

"Calm down, Professor Snape," Dumbledore ordered. "How would Lord Voldemort have discovered the Father's location, and how are we sure that it was indeed him?"

"The cathedral's defenses were still intact, Professor Snape," von Weighant answered, "as they still are at this time. It is very powerful magic, and next to impossible to disperse. Voldemort would have been unable to retrieve the bodies. Several of those found were of known Death Eater sympathizers, one of those being the body of Johann Cestus. This was the second item of note."

"Cestus?" Dumbledore mused, " I seem to remember Cestus: Slytherin, brutish, and not particularly bright. If I remember correctly, his father worked for the Ministry."

"Indeed, as did Cestus himself. We believe he was the leak that provided Voldemort with the information."

"Cestus was a Death Eater," Snape revealed, "that much I do know. However, he was a only a minor functionary, he could not have discovered Father Raimius' location."

"He must have been fed the information from a higher source within the Ministry," Dumbledore concluded, as his face hardened with concern, "Do you have any indication as to whom, or what, that source could be?"

"I have a suspicion, only," replied von Weighant, "but, unfortunately, no hard evidence. Trust me, this is far from over. The leak will be ferreted out."

"Ah, that is a comfort," Dumbledore stated, as he relaxed, ever so slightly, "Was there anything else of note, Sir Vladimir?"

"Unfortunately, there is," von Weighant added, " the last item of note is the one we have feared the most. It seems that Voldemort has the Artifact. There was no evidence of it within the charred ruins, whatsoever." Dumbledore and Snape, both, seemed to wilt a bit upon hearing the news.

"That would explain the Dark Lord's mood of late," Snape said, coming to the realization, "For the past several days, he has actually seemed somewhat…_jovial_…for lack of a better term."

"It worries me that you were not involved in this action, Professor Snape," Dumbledore stated, "Nor that you had any knowledge of such. Voldemort may be on to your true loyalties, though we have done much to keep those hidden. Severus, I would advise extreme caution, from this point on, in your dealings with Voldemort."

"The number of Death Eaters has increased greatly, of late. I am confident that only a handful were there that night. The Dark Lord used cell techniques before, so that no one Death Eater could betray the organization as a whole, perhaps he has gone back to that method," Snape muttered, as a slight flicker of worry flashed across his face.

"As for the news of the Artifact, this begs the question: Does Voldemort have the Key?" Dumbledore wondered as Snape drew in an involuntary gasp at the thought.

"Not as of yet," von Weighant replied, " The Guardian was alerted as soon as we discovered the Artifact missing."

"Shouldn't you place additional guards on the Key, rather than just a single individual," sneered Snape, trying to question the Knight's abilities, "I would have thought that this would have been an automatic response."

"Automatic, yes," explained von Weighant, " and expected. If Voldemort has any idea to the general area of the Key's location, any sudden build up of personnel would verify his suspicions, as well as the exact location. For now, we just keep an eye on the situation, and be ready to react to any move the Death Eaters make. We will help the Guardian as fast as possible. It is, unfortunately, a double edged sword: do too little and risk the Key, or do too much and risk the Key. It is a hard balance to maintain."

"Who knows of the Key's location?" inquired Snape, drawing a slight stare from the Knight that caused Snape's skin to become paler than normal.

"Very few living know of it," Dumbledore answered, "Just the members of the Knights Council, however, the information is stored in a secured area in the Ministry. Only the very highest members of the Ministry have access to it, and even then, they would have know exactly where to look, and for what."

"Headmaster, is it safe to trust that information…" asked von Weighant, as his fist tightened a bit on the arm of the chair.

"I trust Severus Snape with my life, Professor von Weighant, and he has never betrayed my trust." Dumbledore reassured the Knight.

"I bow to your wisdom, Professor , though I am not at all…_comfortable_…with some of his methods and practices," von Weighant replied, as a bit of red started to rise to his face. Dumbledore nodded his understanding, to which the Knight cleared his throat as he composed himself. Snape sat stiffly in the chair, arms crossed and obviously rather steamed.

"With Cestus dead," von Weighant continued, " the most obvious funnel of information to Voldemort is gone. If there is a high ranking member of the Ministry in league with the Dark Lord, he or she will, in all likelihood, have to move forward on their own. Whether they do this and risk exposure, or lay low, remains to be seen."

"We need to gather the members of the Order, so as to pass on this information. I think the activity planned for next week will be the best time to do so. Most of us will be there for…" Dumbledore was concluding, just as the door to his office burst open once more and in walked a mountain on legs. Rubius Hagrid, the Care of Magical Creatures professor, stumbled into the doorway, his face red from the run to Dumbledore's office.

"Sorry I'm late," Hagrid apologized as he ducked down and entered the office, "had something to attend to."

"That's quite alright, Hagrid," Dumbledore replied with a small smile, "and how is your brother today?"

"All fine and dandy, Professor Dumbledore, sir," Hagrid answered, not at all surprised that the Headmaster knew of and spoke about Grawp, "He's talking much better now, and his letters are comin' along nicely! I was just heading back, when a certain wolf found me." Snape shuddered ever so slightly at the mention of the wolf.

"Good, good! Hagrid, let me introduce you to the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Sir Vladimir."

"A Knight! It's about bloody time, if you ask me! Pleased to meet you, your…er…Sir Vladimir!" Hagrid greeted as he stuck out his huge hand to shake with von Weighant, "Nice wolf you have there! Much friendlier than the ones I'm used to dealin' with!"

"Nice to meet you, Professor Hagrid! I hear that your classes are rather interesting, as well as informative. If you wish, I have several…_friends_…that would like to attend sometime within the year. With your permission, of course, I have no wish to disrupt your schedule."

"Really?!" Hagrid said in surprise, his eyebrows reaching high into his hairline, disappearing from view. "That would be smashing, sir!"

"Please, just call me 'Vlad', " replied von Weighant. Snape just crossed his arms tighter and snorted.

"Oh! I couldn't do that, how's about 'Professor Vlad' "

"As you wish, Professor Hagrid," agreed von Weighant, causing Hagrid to beam with pleasure.

"Is there anything else, Headmaster?" Snape asked acidly, disgusted at Hagrid's behavior.

"Not at this time, Severus. You will be at the meeting, correct?" Dumbledore said, more a command than a question. "We will have Sirius' wake at that time."

"Must I?" Snape responded, loathing painfully clear in his eyes, "He and I had very little to say in life, and none, so far, in death. I wish to keep it that way."

"I'm afraid I must insist, Professor Snape," Dumbledore said, rather coolly, "I have need of everyone in the Order to be there at that time. Plans must be made, strategies employed, and Good-Byes said. I fear this war is about to get much worse. This may be the last time you see some of them, for death comes on quick and silent wings, and takes us when we least expect it."

"As you wish, Headmaster," Snape sighed as he stood to take his leave, "Will Potter, and the Knight, be there as well?" Von Weighant stiffened a bit at the mention of Harry's name.

"Of course, Professor Snape. It affects the two of them, as well," Dumbledore answered as Snape scowled even deeper, then left the office in a swirl of black robes, marching haughtily down the stairs.

"He can be most frustrating, at times," Dumbledore muttered as he turned his attentions back to Hagrid and von Weighant. "Hagrid, if you would, show Professor Vlad to his quarters, please. He shall need time to settle in before we begin our work in earnest. 'Professor Vlad', I like that!" chuckled the headmaster as Hagrid and von Weighant left the office.

"So, Hagrid, have you continued your training?" asked von Weighant as he and Hagrid marched down the corridors toward the office of the Defense Professor. The two of them easily fell into step with one another, in perfect cadence, which is not that easy when one is over eight feet tall, and the other just a hair over six.

"Uh, no sir, I haven't," replied Hagrid quietly, as his eyes fell to the floor.

"Fret not, my friend," von Weighant soothed, trying to get Hagrid's spirits back up, "Do you remember everything that I taught you?"

"Oh, yes I do, your…uh...Professor ," Hagrid replied, instantly catching himself as von Weighant put up a single finger in warning. "I remember everything, and I've used it to watch after Harry the best that I could. I hope Lord Thunder will be pleased."

"He is, Hagrid," von Weighant stated, "and he appreciates you looking after Harry like you did when he first came here. From what we've seen, you and he are good friends."

"Aye, that we are," Hagrid said, as he puffed up in pride, "He, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger are the best of friends, they help me lots, and visit me often. Hermione has even helped me with Grawp a bit. A smart girl, our Hermione, and loyal. Ron, too, though he's a bit timid at showing how smart he really is. Loyal as the day is long."

"And what of Harry?" asked von Weighant, in all seriousness, "What sort of man has he turned out to be? Loyal? Trusting? Brave? Smart?"

"Oh, aye, all that and more! Harry is a good lad, better than most, braver than most adults, and more sense, too, though you wouldn't know it from some of the things he's done. He's a bit hardheaded and stubborn, a bit like his father and cousin." Von Weighant coughed in surprise at Hagrid's comments, but recovered quickly.

"Tenacious, our Harry is. Once he sinks his teeth into a problem, or let someone threaten his friends, and he's harder to turn loose than a dragon from his horde. Smart as a whip, too. He's a good man, with a good heart!"

"That's good to hear, Hagrid," the Knight replied, " Now, I have to ask you about one other person."

"And who's that, Professor?" asked Hagrid, knitting his eyebrows together, wondering who von Weighant could be thinking of.

"The caretaker, Argus Filch, what do you think of him?"

"Who? Filch? Nasty piece of work there, hates everyone but his silly cat! Not even a proper wizard, he is, and is more than willing to blame the whole bloody world for it! Now why, by Merlin's' beard, would you want to be knowing about old Filch?" Hagrid answered as look of bewilderment crossed his face, plainly visible, even under his huge beard.

" I wonder if he would be right for the Training," von Weighant said simply, causing Hagrid stopped in his tracks, as if a dragon had a hold of his shorts.

"You want to train Filch? What, in heaven's name, for?"

" The same question was asked of you, when I trained you," von Weighant answered as he stopped in front of the half giant and stared directly up into his eyes. "I do not regret training you, and I ask you not to question my motives! These are dark times, indeed, Hagrid, and we have need of all the help we can get. I fear the time has come when all must stand for what they believe in."

"I understand Mr. Filch's anger, it can't be easy to be the sole Squib in a school full of wizards and witches. It's easy to feel powerless, and seek power wherever it can be found. Anger is a type of power, and if we can channel it, with the proper training, and in the direction needed, it can be an asset. I feel that he has a good heart, I see it when he is with his cat, but it is buried under years of scorn. This can be a second chance to get his life in proper order. Surely, you wouldn't begrudge the man that?"

Hagrid hung his head is shame, as they stood before the office door. "Yer right, sir. Everyone needs a second chance, and who am I to stand in his way? I only wonder if he'll want it?"

"I think he'll jump at the chance, Hagrid," the Knight concluded, as he opened the door to enter his new office, "It truly is good to see you, my friend! You have done us all proud! I thank you for the assistance,_ Professor_ Hagrid," von Weighant said with a smile as he patted his friend's arm, causing Hagrid to break out in a great smile that seemed to light up the dim corridor. Hagrid turned around and ambled down the hallway, back toward his own cottage, leaving the Knight to contemplate the future, and to prepare his lessons for the school year that was fast approaching.

End of Chapter 5.


	6. Chapter 6

-1Chapter 6: Some Shocking Discoveries

"Cripes!" exclaimed Ron as he and Harry walked down the crowded passages of Diagon Alley.

"What's wrong?!" asked Harry, suddenly alert for any signs of trouble, as his hand slid toward the wand he had hidden under his shirt.

"Huh? Oh, sorry, Harry," Ron apologized as they continued walking, fighting the crowds to purchase their school supplies, " I just can't believe it!"

"Ah," Harry replied with a grin, " Yeah, I know, but I think it's great!"

"Yeah, me too!" added Ron, "I can't wait to see old Malfoy's face when he finds out!" He and Harry both laughed out loud as they entered Madam Malkin's to be fitted with their new robes. This was a good thing, for Ron had grown several more inches this past summer, his older robes had crept up higher than his ankles, and were slowly making their way up the calf.

"We need to get fitted for new dress robes , as well," Ron told the seamstress after the fittings for their school robes were finished.

"Why's that, Ron?" Harry asked, with a befuddled look upon his face, "Is there another ball at Hogwarts this year?" He didn't have very pleasant memories of the Yule Ball they had to attend their fourth year. In Harry's eyes, it was a complete disaster that he had no wish to repeat.

"What? Haven't you heard?" Ron responded as Harry shook his head, "Merlin's Beard! Didn't anyone tell you? The Weasley family reunion is this year! We bloody well can't go in just our school robes, now can we?"

"Really?" Harry replied, "I had no idea!"

"Well? You are coming, aren't you?' Ron asked, slight trepidation causing his voice to quaver somewhat.

"Sure, I guess so. No one has invited me yet," stated Harry.

"Huh? I thought Ginny was…going…to…Uh oh!" Ron stammered. "Oi! Ginny's going to kill me!"

"Uh oh?" Harry asked, his eyes a bit wide behind his glasses.

"Yep! She's going to kill me for sure! Ginny hadn't invited you, _**yet!!**_" Ron moaned, "but she was going to! Harry! Pretend I haven't spoiled it for her! Act real surprised when she does, okay?"

"Sure, Ron, sure! Just to let you know, I'll be happy to come!" Harry smiled at the prospect of meeting the rest of Ron and Ginny's family. The idea of Ginny wanting to invite him, herself, made him blush a bit, as well as feel real warm and happy at the same time. "I'll act real surprised!"

"Great!" sighed Ron, "That's a relief!" Harry just grinned as they finished their fittings and left, heading in the direction of Flourish and Blotts to meet up with Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, and Hermione.

"Well?" asked Harry, watching Ron from the corner of his eye as they walked through the crowds.

"Well, what?" Ron responded, his ears turning just the lightest shade of pink.

"Are you going to invite Hermione? She deserves to come just as much as I do." Harry replied, to which Ron started turning the most interesting shade of red.

"Oh yeah! Well, she can come, too!" stammered Ron just a bit, as he tripped over a small pebble on the sidewalk.

"That's not what I asked, Ron!" Harry stated as he stopped walking and looked Ron straight in the eye. "She deserves better than that! Are _you_ going to invite _her_?" If Ron turned any more red, people would start mistaking him for the world's largest apple, propped on a stick.

"Well…I…er…umm… you see…ah…it's…I-I-I-I-I…" stuttered Ron, as he looked away from Harry and down at his overly large feet.

"Lord, Ron! You're hopeless!" Harry shook his head sadly at his friend, "Don't let this get away from you, like you did at the Yule Ball! You'll regret it, mate!"

"Come on!" Ron growled as he started once more for the book store, Harry hurrying to catch up, with a little more spring in his step than before.

Though only a week had passed since he had arrived at the Burrows, Harry looked and felt one hundred percent better (more so, if that was possible). Between Mrs. Weasley forcing food on him, and Ginny making sure he was getting plenty of rest, Harry had regained all the weight he had lost. He lost the pallor of his skin, as well as the dark circles under his eyes. The change was dramatic.

He slept well at night, and had naught but pleasant dreams, for his shield made sure of that. The guilt of Sirius' death did arise occasionally, but that was a natural part of healing, and not the accursed work of Tom Riddle. Whenever his friends would see that haunted look on his face, one of them, usually Ginny, would come over and strike up a conversation.

Harry had discovered that Ginny was growing up to be a lovely young lady, who soon would have to beat all the boys in Hogwarts off with a broomstick. He realized that he looked forward to their conversations everyday. She was always able to bring a smile to his face, and helped to bring back the love of activities and places, mainly of Quidditch and going back to Hogwarts, that he thought he had lost forever.

The revelation of the Prophesy had dimmed Harry's spark, causing all the things that he had loved to do seem trivial. The idea that he or Riddle had to kill the other to lead a full life haunted him almost as much as Sirius' death. He had no true desire to kill anyone, not even Riddle, who had murdered his parents. He did not want to become a murderer.

Ginny was beginning to slowly bring him out of his misery. The spark of Harry's soul was once more rekindled, and he learned that, despite what a prophesy may say, life must go on. So he and Ginny began sharing tales of the school, techniques to use as a Seeker, their opinions of various teachers (Ginny's thoughts on Snape and what he does on his own time caused Harry to shoot an Every Flavor Bean across the room and hit Ron in the back of the head), and such.

Ron thought that Ginny was hogging too much of Harry's time, like younger sisters are wont to do. Earlier in the week, he tried to interrupt one of their conversations. Harry didn't mind too much, but Ginny gave Ron a tongue-lashing the likes of which would have made her mother proud. Ron butted out of their talks ever since, waiting patiently before trying to get Harry out of the house. Mrs. Weasley helped reinforce that.

Harry and Ron passed by Quality Quidditch Supplies and decided to pop in for a bit. Harry bought a refill set for his Broom Maintenance Kit., having used up most of his supplies this past week. He had neglected his poor Firebolt during his enforced stay at the Dursley's, and was working hard to make up for it. It took a lot of polish to repair all the nicks and scratches that covered the broomstick. It was one of the few things he had left from Sirius, and he treasured it dearly.

Ron purchased a new Chudley Cannons poster, and was seriously considering buying a new Quidditch robe. The _Excelsior X-9_ was top of the line, being magically resistant to rain, cold, sleet, ice, flames, heat, jinxes, rips, and tears. It was guaranteed to keep the wearer cool on the hottest day, and warm on the coldest night. With a price tag of thirty Galleons, it seemed to be just out Ron's grasp.

"Longing for things that you will never have, Weasel Droppings?" called out a disgusting familiar voice from behind, "It must really tear you up to see what your _betters_ will be wearing this season!"

"Not him, not now," muttered Harry as he and Ron turned around and came face to face with Draco Malfoy, the biggest git at Hogwarts. "Hey! Look, Ron! That explains the smell that's been making my eyes water!"

"Oh, well," responded Ron, "I thought it was a rancid troll!"

"I was thinking of a flatulent dragon, myself," Harry quipped back.

"Well, you were closest! I guess I owe you five Sickles!" Ron snorted.

"How dare you speak about me that way!" snarled Draco through gritted teeth, his face turning redder than it ever had before. "You, Potter, son of a mudblood! And you, Weasley, poorest of the poor! You're even lower than dirt! I'll be glad when we can rid the world of your ilk!"

"You were spot on, Harry!" Ron said with a snicker as he nudged Harry's arm , " It _**was**_ a flatulent dragon! I just heard the noise!" He and Harry laughed heartily at Malfoy's expense.

"You won't be laughing when my father…" began Malfoy.

"When your father does what, Malfoy? Get out of Azkaban?" Ron retorted, " He's locked up in there with the rest of the Death Eaters, where he belongs! It's going to be a long bleeding time before he's out!"

"I wouldn't be so sure of that, Mr. Weasley," replied a troubling voice from behind them, "I do have good friends in high places, you know!" Harry and Ron stiffened in surprise at the announcement, and the look of smugness that was plastered on Draco's face.

Moving faster than either of the pair knew they could, Harry and Ron spun around and drew their wands, as one, and aimed them at the tall figure that had crept up from behind. Their target was none other than Lucius Malfoy, the leader of the Death Eater squad that had attacked the Ministry of Magic all those weeks ago. The very sound of his voice brought forth an anger in Harry that he had never before experienced.

Lucius Malfoy turned whiter than his hair, as he stared down the length of the wands that were pointing right between his eyes, " What do you boys think you are doing?' he asked shakily, trying very hard to swallow the lump that had formed in this throat. "Underage wizards attacking an upstanding member of the community? What do you think the Minister of Magic will do to you when he hears of this, especially with your record, Mr. Potter?" mused Lucius as he tried very hard to ignore the almost murderous gleam in Harry's eyes.

Ron grinned, most savagely, "I don't think the Minister would mind very much at all!"

"How dare you!" Lucius stammered, as Draco drifted off, out of eyesight. "Cornelius Fudge is a good friend of mine, and he shall send you to Azkaban as soon as I report this! Now, put your wands down!"

"Where are they, Malfoy?" Harry growled through gritted teeth, " Where are Riddle and Lestrange?"

Lucius' eyes went wide at the mention of Voldemort's true name. He started for his wand, then saw how hard Harry was fighting to keep from sending him to Oblivion.

"Why, how should I know, Mr. Potter? I was declared innocent," Lucius replied, with a weak little smile on his face, and a gallon of sweat on his forehead.

"What a crock!" Ron exclaimed, "You lead the Death Eaters that night! We were all witnesses, and you were caught red-handed along with the rest of the scum!"

"Ah, Mr. Weasley! I was under the Imperius Curse, thus, I was not in control of my actions! Now, put the wands away before you make it worse on yourselves," Lucius explained, trying desperately to escape unharmed.

"You…filthy…lying…," snarled Harry, as he trembled uncontrollably, his eyes flashing a brighter green than they ever had before.

"My word!" exclaimed Arthur Weasley as he walked into the shop and saw the situation within. "What is going on in here?" he demanded as he stormed into the store, followed briefly by a dark shadow that vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared.

"Weasley! Tell your son and his…_friend_… to stand down this instant! I shall make sure they end up in Azkaban for this!" declared Lucius, "Or removed from Hogwarts, at the very least!"

"Be silent, Malfoy! Your threats carry no weight here," ordered Arthur. "Boys, what is going on?"

"I beg your pardon!" barked Lucius, "My threats carry the weight of promises! Minister Fudge and I have a very strong…relationship!" he continued as he rattled the gold coins in his jacket pocket.

"Boys, put your wands down, please," Arthur said as he ignored Lucius, much the Malfoy's irritation, "He's not worth it."

"DAD! He's escaped from Azkaban, he has! He's a bloody Death Eater!" Ron shouted, "We have to send him back!"

"Ron, put the wand down!" ordered Arthur, "You as well, Harry! Unfortunately, my predecessor ordered Lucius' release, just prior to his own arrest. There is nothing we can do about it, at this time."

"Your predecessor?" sneered Lucius, a bit bewildered, " Your Muggle loving office had nothing to do with this. I was released on order of Fudge, himself."

"Oh? Haven't you heard, Lucius?" Arthur asked, with a look of innocence on his face, "Well, I suppose not, only important people have been notified, thus far. When I said predecessor, I meant Minister Fudge. Your friend was arrested last week on a whole list of charges, on orders of the Ministry, the IWC, and the Knights Council."

"Under the authority of all those offices," Arthur said, a look of pride mixed with humility on his face, "I was appointed Acting Minister of Magic. They needed someone who could not be influenced, or bought outright!"

Lucius' eyes went wide in shock as his mouth dropped to the floor. A sudden realization hit, as he looked once more at Harry Potter. If Harry used his wand right now, in front of this Minister, then there would be no reprisal. Arthur Weasley and Lucius Malfoy had been bitter enemies for many years, with Lucius' connection to the Minister as his only shield. That shield was now broken.

"Where are they, Malfoy?!" demanded Harry, his eyes never leaving Lucius, his jaw set in determination, his body still trembling with righteous rage.

"I…I…I have no idea," stammered Lucius, the fear in his face becoming very apparent, as his eyes shifted over to Arthur, back to Harry, and then toward a darkened corner of the store.

"Come on, Harry, let him go! Dad's right, he isn't worth it," said Ron as he lowered his own wand and put it away. He stared at Harry with some slight trepidation.

"He won't get away, not this time!" growled Harry, making up his mind as to what he had to do. "For the last time, Malfoy: Where are Riddle and Lestrange?"

"Harry," Arthur said calmly as he walked over to the angry young wizard and put a hand on Harry's wand, "Let him go. Sirius would not want you to become a murderer."

"I may not have a choice in that regard," Harry said flatly as he slowly lowered his wand. Arthur and Ron both breathed a sigh of relief, as the smirk returned to Lucius' face. Arthur stood next to Harry, his hand upon Harry's shoulder, as Ron wondered over to the sales counter. They all had their backs turned away from Draco.

"Now!" ordered Lucius, who's smile turned into a look of shock as a girlish scream shattered the recently returned quiet of the store. The source of the scream became quite obvious seconds later.

Draco Malfoy continued to scream, as he gripped a large serpent tightly to prevent it from striking him. The serpent, now entwined around his forearm, had been his wand just moments before. Lucius ran toward his son to help remove the snake, shoving Arthur and Harry out of his way.

"Can't you do anything right, Draco?" murmured Lucius as he fought to remove the snake from Draco's arm.

"I didn't do it, Father!" squealed Draco, " The spell went wrong, somehow! It wasn't even a transfiguration spell!"

Lucius removed his wand from his cane, only to have it turn to dust before his horrified eyes. He began to glance nervously around the shop, as he continued to tug on the serpent. Draco's cries became even more frantic at his father's apparent lack of success and sudden inattentiveness.

"That's enough!" bellowed Harry as he aimed his wand at the Malfoys, "_Incendio_!!"

As Lucius and Draco stood there, gasping in surprise and horror, a line of intense flame shot from the tip of Harry's wand and connected with the serpent. The serpent burst into flames, and vanished in a puff of ash within seconds. Draco stared daggers into Harry, though he himself was unharmed, as not even a hair on his arm was singed.

Harry grinned at both Lucius and Draco's discomfort when, quick as a flash, a moving shadow caught his eye. Snapping his head around, Harry stared intently at the corner where he had seen the movement. A small glint of light rewarded is efforts, so he left Arthur and Lucius to argue amongst themselves as he went to investigate the little mystery.

There was nothing unusual about the corner, at least at first glance. Harry looked around stacks of replacement broom handles, boxes of Quaffles, mounds of Bludger bats, and assorted other Quidditch supplies, searching for the source of the light. Finally giving up, Harry turned around to meet back up with Ron and Mr. Weasley when the answer literally appeared before his face.

It was a large dagger, with a silver pommel and cross guard, imbedded in the wall. The shop lights glinted off the highly polished pommel, producing a beautiful star effect. The dagger was used as the world's most expensive wall tack and hook, for it pinned a bit of parchment to the wall at eye level, and held a black leather belt with a sheath that matched up well with the dagger. Reaching forward, Harry freed the dagger from the wall, catching the note and belt in the other hand. As Harry read the parchment, his eyes widened in surprise:

_Harry,_

_I have your back, always! By the way, the dagger is yours, a belated birthday gift. Just don't take it to school! I hope Hermione liked her gift!_

_T._

Harry stared at the parchment, then at the dagger. Etched upon the blade was his name, as well as several highly stylized lightning bolts. His initials were emblazoned on the silver crossguard, on both sides. The sheath on the belt had a silver tip and throat, and as obviously made for the dagger, the styles matching perfectly. He carefully slipped the two together, then wrapped the belt around his waist. Suddenly, he realized what had happened: his cousin was in the shop and watching over him! Or, at least he had been a few seconds ago.

Frantically, he looked about the shop, with no success, until he saw the bell above the entrance door moving slightly. Harry bolted out the front door, but alas, though he looked up the street in both directions, he saw no evidence of passage by anyone other than normal wizarding folk.

A tad dejected, Harry walked back in the shop and met up with Mr. Weasley once more. He and Lucius had finally stopped arguing, with both men in separate parts of the shop. Mr. Malfoy was now at the sales counter, speaking with the proprietor, as Ron joined back up with his father and Harry. Ron was carrying a large wrapped package triumphantly under his arm, a silly grin on his face.

"Wow, Ron! Don't tell me!" Harry said, excited for his friend, as he guessed at what was in the package.

"Yes, indeed!" crowed Ron, patting the package , looking as happy now as he had on the day he won the Quidditch Cup for Gryffindor. " The _Excelsior X-9_!"

"Totally cool!" Harry replied " That will come in handy this year!"

"Did you pick up the one for Ginny, too?" asked Mr. Weasley, as Ron nodded his head in agreement. The three started back out the door, when Draco slid up behind them again.

"What's this, Potter….OW!" Malfoy yelped as he reached over to touch the dagger on Harry's waist. A large bolt of energy shot from the pommel and stung Draco's hand.

"Hand's off, Draco!" ordered Harry, but as he started to leave, a commotion at the counter caught his interest.

"What did you say?' demanded Lucius Malfoy.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I am out of the _Excelsior _for the time being, could I interest you in another model?"

"How can that be?" shouted Mr. Malfoy at the wizard, "You had several just moments ago!"

"Indeed I did, sir! However, young Weasley there just bought my last three while you stood there arguing with the Minister."

"What?!" screamed the Malfoys together as Harry retreated from the shop, catching up with the Weasleys.

Harry, Ron, and Mr. Weasley met up with the rest of the crew at Flourish and Blotts to purchase their school books for the year. Since Mr. Weasley's promotion came with a sizable raise, money really wasn't a worry this year when it came to getting the new school supplies, as their purchase of the Quidditch robes proved. Harry couldn't be happier for the Weasleys, the sight of constant worry was no longer etched upon the parents' faces. They actually seemed to look forward to all the shopping!

However, the atmosphere within Flourish and Blotts was rather more subdued than normal. The witches and wizards that milled about, for the most part, seemed to keep their eyes and opinions to themselves. Mrs. Weasley passed out the lists to Harry and the others, and sent them on their merry way, as she and her husband started walking around and visiting with those whom they knew. They were curious as to why the feeling within the store was so fearful.

The reactions they received startled them somewhat. Everyone was walking about as if they were frightened in the extreme. The Weasleys hadn't seen people this jittery since the last time Voldemort was on the loose. Finally, getting rather annoyed at the perceived rudeness, Mrs. Weasley stormed over to the counter and asked the clerk if anything terrible had happened recently.

"Haven't you heard?" the proprietor asked incredulously, looking about as if ready to flee, "It's them stacks of books, over there!"

"Well, what about them?" asked Mrs. Weasley, looking a bit more perplexed than before.

"_They_ brought them in this morning!" hissed the frightened wizard, " It's one of _their_ texts! They're trying to move in now, I tell you!"

"Who? " demanded Mrs. Weasley.

"_Knights_!" whispered the little man in fear, "It's their books! I run a nice shop here, I would never deal in those accursed volumes, if Hogwarts didn't mandate them for this year! I'd rather _burn_ the bloody things than have them here! No telling what they plan to do to the poor students!"

"Oh, please! It can't be all that bad!" Mrs. Weasley replied rather crossly. The clerk looked at her as if she had just spouted off the most absurd thing anyone had ever said, then walked off at a rather brisk pace.

"Mum," Ginny said as she and the others came back with a large stack of books each, "We have everything but our Defense Against the Dark Arts text. We can't seem to find them anywhere, do you have any idea where they might be?"

"Right over there, dear," she said as she pointed to the large table that was in the center of the floor, piled high with thick books.

"Get a load of how thick they are," moaned Ron miserably, "We're going to be in for a ton of homework this year, that we are!" Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron's reaction, but held the tongue rather than tell him off like she normally would.

Harry walked over to the table with the others, and noticed the looks all the other shoppers were giving the table. The books were very large and thick, covered in a textured black leather with gold leaf on the edges of the paper. Harry turned the book over and over, and noticed a very strange thing: there was no writing on the cover. Perplexed, he flipped through the book, and saw no print on any of the pages within. The only marking was that of a golden circle set on the spine. Harry, rather confused, looked over to Mrs. Weasley.

"Er, I think that this one is a misprint," stated Harry as he placed the book back down upon the table.

"It's not the only bleeding one," grumbled Ron as he, Hermione, and Ginny continued to flip through the books they held. Hermione actually looked as if she had discovered something blasphemous: a book with no knowledge.

"Ronald Weasley, watch your language!" scowled his mother, as Ron seemed to shrink back a bit. "Oh, but I am sorry, dears, I should have explained it to you!" Mrs. Weasley said, "Press your thumb to the circle, all of you. Yes, that's the one, dear."

Harry picked up the book once more and did as Mrs. Weasley instructed. There was a brief, golden flash, then slowly, letters of golden ink formed on the front cover. Harry's eyes widened a bit as he opened the book and saw nicely printed pages with numerous illustrations.

"Dark Arts: Advanced Theories on Defense and Practical Combat. Complied by M. Emrys," Hermione read aloud, as she opened the book and gasped. The letters 'HJG' were emblazoned within the inside cover.

"There is no need for surprise. Once each book is activated," explained a hooded gentleman who came out from behind one of the many book racks, "It is personalized to the person who did so."

"Oh my goodness!" jumped Hermione, obviously taken aback by the appearance of the gentleman, " You're a Knight!" Ron and Ginny gasped, spinning around to see with whom Hermione was speaking. Both went as pale as a sheet.

"Indeed, I am," smiled the stranger as he put his right fist over his heart and bowed ever so slightly, then threw back his hood , freeing his long braids, "Just as you are a student at Hogwarts. Ms. Granger, if I'm not mistaken, as well as the Weasleys, and Mr. Potter." Ron's eyes grew wide at the stranger's revelation as to whom they were.

Harry was confused as to his friends' reactions. The other three actually seemed _afraid_ of this Knight. That explained almost everyone else's reaction, as most of the adults vanished at the Knight's appearance. There seemed to be nothing about this Knight that appeared sinister, if anything, he seemed most helpful.

"These texts were provided by the Knights," continued the stranger, "and are set up to match your grade level. If Ms. Weasley will look closely, you shall see what I mean."

Ginny looked at the book with just the slightest bit of fear, having had a horrid experience with a cursed book during her first year at Hogwarts. The front cover of this read 'Dark Arts: Intermediate Theories on Defense and Practical Combat'. Her eyes grew just a bit wider, for the book had been identical to the others just moments before.

"They are enchanted to keep others from using your texts without permission," stated the Knight. He took a small step forward toward the table, causing everyone, except Harry, to take one large step back. The Knight looked somewhat dismayed, and Harry was a bit surprised and embarrassed at his friends' reactions. He took a step forward and extended his hand.

"I'm Harry Potter, sir, as you obviously know. It's a pleasure to meet you! And you?" he asked after introducing himself.

The Knight broke out in a wide grin, and shook Harry's hand firmly, " Sir Vladimir von Weighant, at your service, young sir!"

Harry turned to introduce the others, only to see states of shock on their faces. He motioned them forward, only to have them violently shake their heads negatively, and take one more step back, bumping into a rather large book stack. Harry's face flushed with embarrassment, and just a bit of anger at their actions.

"I'm sorry, sir," Harry apologized, "they're usually not rude at all! Something seems to have frightened them."

The Knight gave a sad, small smile as he spoke, " That's alright, Mr. Potter. You would think that after six hundred years, things would have calmed down somewhat."

Harry just shrugged, helplessly, as he and the Knight shook hands once more, before Sir Vladimir glided over to speak to Mrs. Weasley. After a few seconds, much to everyone's surprise, Mrs. Weasley gave Sir Vladimir a huge hug!

Spinning on his heel, Harry stormed over to his friends, glowering with anger. Ron and Hermione just looked at their shoes as he stood there, Ginny, however, shrank back more than the others before Harry's wrath, tears beginning to form in her eyes.

"What the bloody hell was that all about?!" growled Harry, " Sir Vladimir was a perfect gentleman, and you lot treated him as if he had the Plague! Or worse, like the Dursley's treat me!!" This little comparison brought full fledged tears to the girls' eyes. Harry fury dimmed a bit at the sight.

"We're sorry," Ginny whispered, " but Harry, he's a _Knight_!"

"He's a Knight," he parroted, " So what! What does that have to do with anything?"

"You really don't understand, Harry," Ron squeaked, as if he were a frightened mouse, "Knights _hunt_ witches and wizards! They torture them for fun! They impale magical children on lances and let the vulture feast! Knights skin wizards alive and use the hides to cover their shields!"

"Ronald Weasley!!" screeched Mrs. Weasley, "How can you say such horrid things? That is a load of pure hogwash! What did I tell you about listening to those insane tales?"

"But, Mrs. Weasley," interrupted Hermione, "I've read all about the Persecutions in our History of Magic classes. They say that the Knights led the witch hunts back during the Dark and Middle Ages!"

"You may have misread the texts," Mr. Weasley said as he walked up, a bit troubled at what had happened. " The Persecutions were started and lead by knights, but not The Knights. The Order worked hard to track down the zealots and put a stop to things."

"Dad," started Ginny, "What about all the stories? They have to be real!"

"That's just it, Ginny," Arthur said as he shook his head sadly, "They are _just_ stories, told by those too ignorant or too lazy to discover the truth for themselves!"

"I am sorely disappointed by you lot," Mrs. Weasley said snippily, as she gathered them all together to pay for their purchases, "Ron, Ginny, I had hoped we had raised you better! Your father and I are close, personal friends of several Knights, and they all are good, honorable people. The Knights are the reason we were able to go home!"

Ron and Ginny were stunned at their parents' disclosure. All the stories they had heard while growing up would have prevented this, had they been true. Knights were _never_ friendly to wizarding folk, preferring instead to murder them, as the stories went. Ginny and Ron shook their heads in disbelief, while Hermione had a disturbed look on her face. The thought of being considered ignorant bothered her to no end.

"Harry, dear," began Mrs. Weasley, " I am proud of you for being so wonderful and open-minded! That seems to be happening less and less these days."

"Um, thanks, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, still somewhat bewildered, "I still don't know what all the fuss is about, really."

"Sometimes, Harry," Mr. Weasley explained as they left Flourish and Blotts to go back to the Burrows, " I think it's a good thing you didn't grow up in the wizarding world. That seems to have help keep you from developing irrational prejudices and fears."

"It's the proper attitude for you to have, Harry," Mrs. Weasley continued, "after all, your cousin, Lord Thunder, is a very high ranking Knight!"

That little bit of information brought the four teenagers to a sudden halt, the other three staring at Harry as he looked shocked, his eyes wide behind his glasses. He just shrugged at their unasked inquiries. Noticing that they were being left behind, the foursome raced to catch up with Mr. And Mrs. Weasley, all questions having to be left for later.

End of Chapter 6.


	7. Chapter 7

-1Chapter 7: Surprise and Sorrow

After returning home from Flourish and Blotts, anger and embarrassment were soon forgotten as the days drifted by as they are wont to do during the summer. Hermione went back home to spend a few more days with her parents before the start of the term, which put a bit of a damper on Ron's mood. Harry and Ginny did their best to bring him out of his funk, as did Fred and George everyday after coming home from their shop, but nothing seemed to work. Ron spiraled down a well that was deep and dark, indeed.

One day, however, Harry suggested that they go outside and practice Quidditch. That did the trick, for Ron's spirits picked up as soon as he and Ginny donned their new Quidditch robes. Harry felt a bit of despair at the thought he wouldn't be playing for Gryffindor this up coming year, but Ginny was a fairly good Seeker, and he had no desire to try to take her position. Besides, his lifetime ban was, in all probability, still intact.

Harry and Ginny ran Ron through an intense series of drills with multiple Quaffles. Ron had vastly improved since last summer, and no matter how hard they tried, they just could not get the Quaffle past him. It was as if he were in a world where only he and the Quaffle existed, nothing else could vie for attention. The only time Harry and Ginny succeeded was when they fired _two_ Quaffles at once, and even then, Ron managed to get a part of the second one. After several hours, Ron was completely worn out from practice, and opted to sit out for a while, as did the other two.

Later in the day, Harry and Ginny started up Seeker practice, as Harry did everything in his power to teach Ginny every secret and technique he had learned as a Seeker. They practiced spirals, dives, feints, as well as loops and spins. They participated in flat out races, sudden stops, close formation flying, and obstacle avoidance drills. Harry taught her various forms and methods of Snitch capture, how to read her opponent's intentions, how to get a feels for the direction a Snitch would take, so on and so forth.

He put her through every drill he could think of, thoroughly running Ginny through the wringer. Ginny was already a good Seeker, but her skills, especially in flying, dramatically improved as the days passed. Harry was proud of his student's progress, even if he _did_ catch the Snitch every time. It felt good to fly and play once more, as old reflexes slowly returned to their prime.

The Thursday before they were scheduled to return to Hogwarts, Hermione returned, saying a tearful farewell to her parents. Ron wasn't happy seeing her cry, but he was ecstatic at her return. He didn't even need his broom to fly that day, he had such a bounce in his step. Harry and Ginny fought back a severe case of the giggles at seeing Ron fall all over himself at Hermione's return. Hermione didn't seem to notice much, as she had her face buried in the book Ron had given her for her birthday. Harry _did_ catch a glimpse of a small smile, once, which Hermione hurriedly covered up.

Ron sat out practice that day, much to the delight of Fred and George, who teased him mercilessly about it. Harry and Ginny launched themselves into an immediate, full blown Seeker practice, the most intense one to date. Ginny came close to catching the Snitch several times, but Harry always managed to get a hand on it first.

Several hours later, the two finally landed, thoroughly exhausted, but still thrilled from the rush of flight. They staggered back toward the house, wearily dragging their brooms behind.

"Well, Ginny, that's it," Harry said, "I've taught you everything I know. You have definitely turned into an expert Seeker!"

"But, Harry, you still beat me!" she replied, still somewhat out of breath.

"I have a faster broom, that's all."

"No, I don't think that's it," she countered, "I think you have a natural talent for flying!"

"Oh well, I guess that doesn't matter much, anymore," he said rather sadly, "but you'll be able to beat any Seeker the other Houses throw at you!"

"Oh, Harry, you are so silly!" Ginny giggled.

"I'm serious!" he said as he and Ginny kept bumping into each other as they staggered home, "You should be able to catch the Snitch in record time, with all the practice you've had."

"Harry," Ginny said between giggles, "you really don't know, do you? All that practice, it wasn't for me!"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked incredulously, beginning to feel as if he were the butt of a rather large joke.

"Ron and I, we've already spoken to everyone," she said as she stopped and turned to face him, tucking a stray strand of red hair behind her ear, "I'm to be one of the Chasers this year. All that practice was to get you back in shape. You're 'lifetime ban' was lifted as soon as Professor Dumbledore took back control of Hogwarts, last year!" Ginny was trying hard to hide the smile that was slowly creeping onto her face.

"You mean…?" Harry asked, with just the smallest amount of hope beginning to form in his heart.

"Yes, silly! _You_ are Gryffindor's seeker, once more!"

Harry's jaw hit the ground, as the world seemed to stop around him. There was a sparkle in Ginny's eye as she looked up at him, a large smile on her face. The sky was bluer than it ever had been before, the singing of the birds had never sounded more beautiful, nor had the flowers ever smelled sweeter.

"You're kidding! This is great!" Harry shouted as he snatched Ginny up in a hug to end all hugs, and spun her around in circles, the both of them laughing their heads off in sheer joy. He had never dared hope that he would ever play for Gryffindor again, always feeling like he would be trying to take Ginny's job from her if he ever tried. He never wished to hurt her, so the thought was never seriously entertained. This, however, had changed things, so much for the better.

They stopped spinning around and just stood there and held each other for a few moments, enjoying each others company and strength. They looked deep in the other's eyes, as Harry noticed the golden glow on Ginny's face. For just one brief moment in time, they were happy, plain and simple. The moment, however, passed, and then they realized what was going on.

"Ginny, er, um, well.." Harry stammered a bit, "Sorry." Slowly, ever so slowly, Harry and Ginny released each other, as both blushed madly.

"Hush, don't be," she said as she raised a finger and put it to Harry's lips, "I…" Ginny started when she heard something off in the distance.

"Come on, Harry, Mum's calling us," Ginny said as she took Harry's hand and led him back toward the house, "besides, we have something for you up there!"

Harry gladly followed her up to the house, his emotions running a roller coaster with every step. He did not want that moment to every stop, he wished to revel in the feeling of true happiness, the likes of which he had never truly experienced before in his sad life. Longing was there, but so was the other end of the spectrum: fear. Something deep within Harry was extremely frightened in what had just happened, and he could not understand why, and it took from the joy he felt. His emotions continued to flip flop all the way back to house. One thing was certain, the feelings between he and Ginny had deepened greatly, and he knew within his heart of hearts, it was good.

"Hermione, I'm so glad you liked your gift," Ron said, somewhat perplexed and perturbed, "but how many blessed times can you read the same bloody book?"

"Leave her alone, Ron," Ginny called out as she and Harry walked in hand-in-hand. They quickly let go before anyone could notice, or at least so they hoped. "You know she had been looking for that volume for a very long time, let her enjoy it!"

"It's not just that," Hermione piped up when she was finally able to tear herself free from the contents "It is a veritable encyclopedia set, listing so very much more in the wizarding world than I had ever dreamed!"

"How's that?" asked Harry as he came back in the room with two large glasses of pumpkin juice for he and Ginny.

"Well," she began, using her best teaching voice, one that Harry and Ron had come to dread in the years since they had first met her, "after our little experience with the Dark Arts text, I noticed something rather interesting about this book."

"Come on, Hermione, whatever could interesting about a book?" Ron quipped. She shot him a look that could melt steel. Ron looked a bit hurt, as her eyes softened involuntarily.

"At first, I thought it was just about famous, as well as infamous, witches and wizards from throughout world history," she explained, "but it's much more than that! Take a look at the spine, it has five circles on it!"

"So, this book is enchanted, just like our Dark Arts books?" asked Ginny.

"Yes!" Hermione exclaimed excitedly, "It's five books in one! The second book," she said as she pressed the corresponding circle, "is a tome on very ancient magics, most of which I have never read about before!"

"Something Hermione has never read about before, now _that's_ a rarity!" Ron snickered as he nudged Harry's arm with his elbow. Hermione continued to ignore him.

"The next one is on Magical Weapons, Amplifiers, and Potions. I think there are potions in here that Professor Snape has never even dreamed about," she continued with a slight, mischievous grin, "I can't wait to try a few of these!"

"Anything we can use to turn Snape into a slug?" asked Harry rather grumpily, he had no desire to think about Professor Snape whatsoever.

"Oy! Don't say 'slug'!" Ron said, turning slightly green. Ginny started to giggle at his discomfort, as Harry and Hermione just smiled, saying nothing.

"Book four deals with Schools of Magic, as well as Magical Orders: what they teach, what they specialize in, and even where they are located!" This one raised everyone's eyebrows, for schools kept their locations as highly guarded secrets.

"Whoa," exclaimed Harry, "who ever wrote that one must have been one powerful wizard, to know where all the schools are located!"

"Believe it or not, it's written by the same wizard who wrote our schoolbook," replied Hermione.

"This 'M. Emrys'?" asked Ginny, still just a tad wary of the whole enchanted book situation.

"The same! From what I can see, he's written all five books in this volume," Hermione said with wonder, "but the most fascinating book is the last!"

"Okay, don't keep us in suspense, Hermione," Ron said, getting rather annoyed, "what's in the last book?"

"It's a complete history of the Order of the Lone Star," she said triumphantly, but was met with blank stares from the others, "You know: The Knights!"

"Bloody hell!" exclaimed Ron as he ran over to look at the book with Hermione, "How on Earth did we manage to stumble onto this? No one has a complete history of the Knights!"

"That's not quite true," Mrs. Weasley said as she and her husband walked into the room, ignoring Ron's curse, "Very few people know the true history of the Knights, Ron. Hermione, dear, count yourself very fortunate indeed that you were blessed with that book!"

"This is just so fascinating…" Hermione murmured to herself as she delved further into her reading.

"There will be more than enough time for that later, dear," Mrs. Weasley commented, "you lot need to pop on upstairs and get cleaned up. I've already set all your dress robes out, so everything is set."

"What do we need our dress robes for, Mum?" asked Ron, a little dubious of his mother's reasons.

"There's a meeting of the Order tonight, and everyone must attend! Now, come along, let's get cracking!" Mr. Weasley answered.

"But what about dinner?" whined Ron, "I'm famished!"

"We will eat when we get there, Ronald!" snapped his mother, "As will everyone else. Tonight is a very special occasion, and Bill, Charlie, Fred, and George will meet us there!"

"What sort of occasion, Mrs. Weasley?" asked Hermione as she and Ginny started up the stairs, followed by the boys.

Mrs. Weasley had a sad little look in her eyes, as her husband looked down at his feet. "It's the reading of your godfather's will, Harry," she said with great sympathy, "we've only now just discovered it, and we're holding a wake, according to his wishes."

The mood dampened a bit as they trooped upstairs to get ready. After Harry cleaned up and went to put on his dress robes, he noticed a large, wrapped package laying on the bed. He looked at Ron questioningly.

"Go ahead! Open it up!" said Ron, excitement creeping in to his voice.

Harry ripped it open and stood there aghast. "Is this…?" he asked, letting the question hang in his throat.

"Yep! The _Excelsior_!" Ron said happily at his friend's surprise.

"Wow, Ron! This is fantastic!, " Harry exclaimed then looked a bit troubled, "You didn't have to do this, it's so expensive!"

"Eh, call it a return on investment," Ron replied, with a bit of a twinkle in his eye, "Dad and I know all about your investment in Fred and George's shop. Don't worry, we've never said a word to Mum! We kind of like you being on her good side!"

"Thanks, Ron! You'll never know how much this means to me!" Harry beamed as he carefully folded his new Quidditch robe and placed it reverently in his school trunk, before donning his dress robe.

"You know, sometimes it's rather handy having a father who's Minister of Magic," Ron added with a wink as he got dressed. Harry nodded in agreement.

After everyone was ready, and had gathered downstairs, Remus Lupin arrived in a Ministry car to ferry them all to London. Lupin was looking much better than he had in a very long time, no longer pale and drawn, with newer robes on than Harry had ever seen him wear before.

"You're looking like you're feeling much better, Professor," commented Hermione as they all climbed into the car.

"Thank you, Hermione!" replied Lupin, beaming somewhat, "You can blame it all on Arthur!"

Mr. Weasley blushed a bit as his wife added, "One of the first things Arthur did when he became Minister was to offer Remus a job."

"Believe me," replied Lupin, "he did not have to ask twice! This is the first steady work I've had since Hogwarts."

"Well, I _did_ need a personal assistant," Mr. Weasley stated, "and Remus seemed to fit the bill nicely. However, I shall have a better job for him as soon as I can get the anti-werewolf laws declare illegal."

"Can you really do that, Mr. Weasley?" asked Harry, his heart lifting a bit for his former teacher, and current friend.

"Seeing how the main sponsors of the law are now in Azkaban, and how they often granted _favors_ in exchange for _donations_ from certain individuals, I should have no trouble issuing a directive declaring the law discriminatory and illegal. It blatantly flies in the face of all the anti-discrimination laws in the books already. I'm going to send the case before the Wizengamot for a judgment, and Albus has already given me his promise to support the bill with all his power."

"It will be an uphill battle, though," commented Lupin as he carefully guided the car across the night sky, through the billowing clouds, heading for the huge Muggle city of London.

"You can't punish people for something that's not their fault," Ron chimed in, "It's not their fault they were attacked and became werewolves. It's just plain wrong!"

"From your lips to their ears, Ron," called Lupin over his shoulder, quite proud of his former student's stance on the issue.

Everyone's mood, as they stood before Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, grew solemn. Harry, especially, seemed to withdraw within himself. Ron and Hermione both came up and gave him a pat, to let him know that everything would be alright. Professor Dumbledore met them at the door.

"Hello, everyone, I'm glad you could make it," he said as he led the group through the front door. Harry, however, stayed planted to the spot.

"Is there something the matter, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, with a look of sorrow on his aged face.

"I-I-I-I don't think I can do this," stammered Harry. He had gone deathly white, and trembled slightly. He felt that if he walked through that door, that any hope he had of Sirius returning, no matter how absurd, would be completely dashed. Walking through would make it final.

"Harry…," Dumbledore started, until Ginny shot past him in a run, and took Harry's hand. Dumbledore's eyebrows rose up into his hairline, "Ginny?"

"Oh! Sorry, Professor!!' apologized Ginny as she lent her strength to Harry, "Come on, Harry," she said as she led him by the hand into the building. Dumbledore had to smile a bit as he watched the two teenagers.

The mood within the old house was even more somber, as everyone crept past the painting of Sirius' mother (so as not to set her off), and entered the main room, where the wake was to be held.

Harry's feet felt as if they were made of lead, as Ginny dragged him forward. His heart was in his throat as he looked about at the assembled members of The Order of the Phoenix that occupied the cavernous space. There were many there whom Harry recognized: Kingsley Shacklebolt, Dedalus Diggle, Hestia Jones, Mundungus Fletcher, and Mrs. Figg, just to name a few. Several came over to speak to Harry.

Mrs. Figg was happy that he looked so much better, then gave her condolences at his loss, wrapping him up in hug. Harry hugged her back, not minding the smell of cats on his neighbor. The closest Harry came to tears was when Tonks came over and gave him a big hug, then broke down in a flood of tears. Sirius, while Harry's godfather, was Tonks' cousin, and she was obviously not handling his death very well at all.

Tonks was a Metamorphmagus, changing her appearance at will. It was a very handy talent for an Auror to have, but now it reflected her inner anguish. Her hair, normally some sort of wild color and style, was now flat black and cascading past her shoulders. Her skin was the color of Death, and she literally had dark circles around her eyes. Tonks actually seemed shriveled up, as if all the life had drained from her.

Harry's heart went out to her, as he held her and let her cry out her grief. She and he were much more alike now than before, what little family she had left despised her just as much as the Dursleys did him, if not more so. Tonks had never realized how much Sirius' love and support had meant to her until he was gone.

Slowly, her crying wound down to an occasional sniffle, as her skin regained some bit of it's normal coloring, and her hair was no longer as dark a black as it once was. Harry led her to her seat next to Dumbledore, and then went and sat with the Weasleys. Ron was seated in a stiff, high back chair between his mother and Hermione, who was seated in an identical chair. Harry's chair was reserved between Ginny and Hermione, much to his utter relief. Ginny had supported him so much this past summer, he did not believe he could get through this without her. As he sat, she reached over and took his hand, filling him with warmth and well being.

Harry looked around the room, desperately trying to keep his mind from what was to come. He studied the old, heavy drapes that covered the ornate windows, the high vaulted ceiling covered in paintings that harkened back to what was thought to be a simpler time, the ancient carpeting that covered the floor, so old and used it looked as if no amount of cleaning would ever brighten or revive it ever again.

He watched the gaslights as they cast strange shadows about, their eerie yellow glow causing everyone and everything within their range to appear ill. Harry's eyes next fell on the Black family tree tapestry that hung in a prominent spot within the room, worn and ancient. He sadly looked at the spot where Sirius' name had once been, blasted off in a fit of spite by his overbearing mother. Harry recalled Sirius telling him the story of how he ran away from home when he was sixteen, because he could not stand his family's hatred for those wizards not of 'pure-blood'.

The room gradually filled up with faces both familiar and strange. The Order had more members than he had ever thought, either that or Dumbledore had done some serious recruitment this past summer. Harry was pleasantly surprised to see several of his teachers arrive, notably Minerva McGonagall, and Rubeus Hagrid. Seeing the two of them, the former the Transfiguration teacher and Head of Gryffindor, and the latter the Care of Magical Creature professor, gave Harry a warm feeling. Both smiled warmly at him, and went to take their seats.

There were two faces there that startled Harry somewhat. The first was Professor Snape, which didn't make any sense to him. Snape and Sirius had an extreme dislike for each other, dating back to their days as students at Hogwarts. The idea of him showing up to a memorial for Sirius was strange indeed. Harry didn't care too much for Snape himself, so seeing him here for the wake irritated him somewhat. Snape stood in the corner, dressed in black as was his norm, arms crossed and scowling fiercely at the second stranger in their midst.

Sir Vladimir von Weighant sat close to Professor Dumbledore, dressed in black robes of a slightly different cut from the ones he wore that day in Flourish and Blotts. His hair hung loosely in back, reaching a point well past the ends of his shoulder blades. The braids at his temples swayed slightly as he spoke with Dumbledore, the silver chain woven into the left braid catching the gaslight in such a way as to create a slight star effect.

The rest of the Order gave the Knight no undue notice, none of the fear and loathing Harry had felt at the bookstore was apparent. Many members actually went over and shook hands with the Knight, reaffirming Harry's belief that there was nothing sinister about the man.

Harry's three friends, however, were obviously still terrified of him, despite all of the Weasley's reassurances. Ron turned as white as a sheet, while the girls trembled violently. Harry reached over and took Ginny's hand in both of his.

"It's alright," he assured her, "He's not the enemy! If he's friends with Dumbledore, then he must be on our side."

"I-I-I know," she stuttered, calming down somewhat from the touch of Harry's hand, "I just can't help it!"

"It will be okay," stated Harry, then he noticed that Ginny was getting worse. He looked up and saw Sir Vladimir and Dumbledore looking directly at them. A small smile was on the faces of both men, as Sir Vladimir stood up and walked toward them.

"Mr. Potter, Ms. Weasley," Sir Vladimir greeted as he stood before them, "Ms. Granger, Mr. Weasley. My condolences on the loss of your godfather, Mr. Potter. Sirius was a good man."

"Did you know Sirius, sir?" asked Harry, his throat beginning to hurt somewhat.

"Aye, that I did, Mr. Potter, from a long time back," replied the Knight as he reached over and put a hand on Harry's shoulder, "I knew he and your father well."

"Y-y-y-you knew Harry's dad, sir?" asked Ginny very shakily.

"Yes, Ms. Weasley, he and Sirius were good friends," replied Sir Vladimir as he took a knee before Ginny and reached within his robe, producing a single, perfect white rose and handing it to a startled Ginny, "a beautiful rose, for a beautiful young lady!"

"Th-thank you," she replied, visibly calming down as she clutched the rose to her chest and took a sniff, smiling demurely, "you can call me 'Ginny'."

"You are most welcome," Sir Vladimir replied, as he caught Harry's eye and gave him a quick wink. Harry grinned, happy that Ginny was calming down. "And thank you, Ginny!"

"S-sir?" began Hermione, as she tried her best to clamp down on her fear, drawing strength from Ron as she squeezed his hand. As for Ron, he never knew Hermione was as strong as she was, her grip on his hand causing his eyes to bulge out of his head.

"Yes, Ms. Granger?"

"H-Hermione, if you please, sir. Th-that necklace you wear, sir, the design looks s-strangely familiar. Could you t-tell me what it is, p-please?"

The Knight smiled as he reached up and removed the strangely shaped symbol from the silver chain, the same type of chain that had been woven into his braid. "Of course, Hermione. This is a representation of a Thunderbird, it's a type of talisman of protection," he said as he placed it in her hand.

"My, but this is lovely!" Hermione replied, almost all trace of fear vanishing at the thought of learning something new. "What kind of jewel is this, the one in the center?"

"That, Hermione, is the Tear of the Thunderbird."

"Whoa! Wicked!" exclaimed Ron, who had been listening intently to the conversation. He had feared that this Knight planned some harm to Hermione, so had readied himself to take action. Now, however, he was enraptured with the jewel. Leaning forward, Ron studied the Tear. It appeared to be perfectly round, but upon closer inspection, a thousand tiny facets could be made out, each one throwing back the light in such a way that it seemed as if it were shooting sparks of lightning. Looking even more intensely, Ron could swear he could see a _storm_ raging within.

"Incredible!" gasped Hermione, "I've never heard of such a thing!"

"It's beautiful," said Ginny, as she watched the jewel sparkle.

"Beautiful, yes, and extremely powerful," replied Sir Vladimir, pleased that all traces of nervousness and fear had bled from everyone.

"A Thunderbird's Tear? Is that anything like a Phoenix's Tear?" asked Harry, remembering the healing powers of Fawkes' tears.

"In a way, Mr. Potter," started the Knight.

" 'Harry' , please sir," interrupted Harry.

"Harry," quoted the Knight, smiling, "Now, where as a Phoenix Tear has incredible healing abilities, a Thunderbird's Tear is somewhat different, but magical, none the less. Utilized properly, it can be used to boost the effect of any spell, charm, or potion."

"And if not used properly?" asked Ron, beating Hermione to the question, that being no small feat in itself.

"Well…'Ron' , is it?" asked the Knight, to which Ron vigorously nodded his head. "I hear, from Professor Dumbledore, that you're quite the Quidditch player, one of the better Keepers he has ever seen. That's quite a complement you know, coming from the headmaster. Perhaps we can get together later tonight and discuss how you won the Quidditch Cup last year?" Ron puffed up with pride over Professor Dumbledore's assessment of his Keeper skills. The Knight smiled, for he had finally won all three over.

"Sir, what would happen if the Tears were used improperly?" Harry asked, repeating Ron's question.

A haunted looked flashed across Sir Vladimir's face before he answered, causing Harry a bit of concern. He hoped he had not upset the Knight.

"Well, Harry, they are known as the Seeds of the Storm for a reason. Trust me, you would not wish to see the results." replied the Knight, somewhat sadly. "Now, if you ladies wish, I shall try and see if I can get each of you one of these necklaces, if you like them so well. Until that time, however…,"

Sir Vladimir produced another perfect rose from his robes, this one in a light pink, and gave it to Hermione, causing her smile to beam brighter than the sun. "Now, these are very special roses, grown only in my homeland, and bloom during the brightest moon of the year. Only the most special ladies are given these, and will last you forever, giving you as much love as you give it." With that, he took his leave of them and went back to his seat across the room.

"Smooth, very smooth," Harry murmured to himself as he watched the two girls out of the corners of his eyes. They, as well as Ron, actually looked at the Knight with admiration, not realizing that he, himself, was doing the same thing. That pleased Harry to no end, perhaps they had finally learned. Much to his surprise, Harry discovered that he wanted to be like this Knight.

His pleasure was short-lived, as Professor Dumbledore took to the center of the room. The lights automatically dimmed, except in the spot where Dumbledore stood, drawing everyone's attention to the old wizard. Professor Dumbledore seemed older than his years, this night, for sorrow and loss can do this to even the most powerful person.

"My friends," he started, "thank you for coming. We gather this night to honor the memory of a great man…" Professor Snape snorted in the background, drawing venomous stares from the assembled crowd.

"A great man," continued Dumbledore with a harsh glare to the offending individual, "who sacrificed his life for our noble cause, and for those whom he loved."

"He was a good friend, a loving cousin and godfather, and a loyal soldier. He was the first casualty of this renewed war, and he knew that his life could be forfeit at any time. When the call came, he was the first to rush to the scene, even thought he could have easily stayed behind, where it was safe."

"But that was not the kind of man Sirius was, he had to be in the thick of things. When his godson needed his help, he could have stayed in hiding, but instead rushed to his side to help him, support him, and protect him. Doing so could have easily landed him back into the hands of the authorities, who did not know his true nature, nor his innocence."

"Sirius didn't care about himself, though, or his freedom, when it came to helping those he loved. I believe that he would have walked through the fires of Hell itself, and back, to protect and defend those closest to him."

"He lost so many years of his life, being falsely imprisoned, because of his loving nature. He tracked down the person who betrayed his best friends to the enemy, and then wrongly thought he had caused the deaths of that person, as well as innocent Muggles. He punished himself for failing his friends by staying in that retched pit they threw him in, knowing he could have escaped at anytime, but feeling that doing so would not have been right. He believed himself to blame. We all know that the blame was not his, the punishment should not have been his to bear."

Dumbledore looked about the room, looking everyone in turn straight in the eyes. "My words do not do the man justice," he continued, opening his arms wide to encompass the entire room, "as we all have our own memories of Sirius, both fond and familiar," this brought forth yet another snort from the corner, "and my heavy handed eulogizing will not speak better of the man than those memories. Remember him in your heart!"

With that, Professor Dumbledore took his seat as Alastor Moody thumped his way to the center of the room, his walking staff in one hand, and a crystal globe the size of a Bludger in the other. Holding the globe at waist level, he released it and left to take his seat, bowing ever so slightly toward Sir Vladimir as he limped by.

The globe remained hovering at the level at which Moody had released it. A slight humming started to issue from it, slowing filling the room. It wasn't an unpleasant sound, in fact, it actually seemed to calm everyone somewhat. Harry felt the lump in his throat disappear as he thought of all the fond memories he had of his godfather. There weren't many, but they were, for the most part, good.

A small point of light appeared in the center of the globe, slowly growing to encompass the globe entire, causing it to glow like a small star. It was then the light began to pulsate, and with a blinding flash, the globe was gone. In it's place, stood Sirius!

Well, a recording of Sirius, at least, Harry thought to himself as he did his best to calm his breathing and heart rate. He had thought, for just the briefest of moments, that his godfather had returned to him. It was a bit of a let down, and he chided himself for thinking the impossible.

"My friends," began the simulacrum of Sirius, as it looked about the room, "if you are seeing this…,well, you can figure it out!" he said with a wry grin.

"It has been a pleasure to know you all, even those who may think otherwise," Sirius said, and everyone in the room swore that he looked directly at Snape when he said the last part.

"Now, for the first part, I want to make this perfectly clear: None of you are responsible for my death! In all probability, I fell in battle, or at least I hope so! Knowing my luck, I slipped on a bar of soap and broke my neck, either that, or my wand exploded in my face!"

"I sure hope I died in battle," Sirius said with a smile and a wink, causing Harry and most of the rest laugh somewhat, relieving the tension. "To tell the truth, after so many years in Azkaban, death holds little fear for me. I just pray that I haven't let any of you down!" he said, looking around a bit, and settling on where Harry sat. Harry swore Sirius was staring right at him.

"The second thing I ask is to please, do not grieve for me! This is supposed to be a wake, so I expect someone passed out on the sofa before the night ends, and Professor Dumbledore to dance a jig with Professor McGonagall while wearing a lampshade upon his head! Don't disappoint me, Professor!" Albus Dumbledore remained in his seat, but was laughing himself silly, while Professor McGonagall blushed somewhat.

"Right now, I suppose I'm sitting back with all those we lost in the War, downing a warm butterbeer, and relaxing. At least, I hope so!" he said with a wink.

Harry sat there and smiled, holding Ginny's hand and feeling at peace. Leave it to his godfather to stare Death in the face and still retain his sense of humor, he thought to himself. He felt a light touch on his arm, and glanced over to see Hermione patting him reassured. He felt so lucky to have friends such as these, willing to put up with his nonsense and still be there to support him. Harry turned his attention back to the pseudo-Sirius as he spoke once more.

"Well, let's get on with the business at hand. I ,Sirius Black, being of sound mind and body …DON'T say a word, Severus!" barked Sirius as Snape choked back a snide remark, turning somewhat red in the face at being told off by a recording.

"I knew he was going to say something," grinned Sirius, giving everyone assembled a good chuckle, well, all but Snape, who looked absolutely livid.

"Okay, enough levity, back to business. First, my lovely cousin Tonks, it is to my deep sorrow that I leave you, but remember, you are not alone. The Order has been family to me for more years than I deserve, and they shall be a family to you. It is to this that I charge the Order entire. You folks are Tonks' family, now and forever."

"To Nymphadora Tonks," started Sirius, as he stuck his tongue out at her, causing her to giggle a bit, "I leave my love, and one third of my personal fortune, as well as the family estates in Scotland. If anyone gives you any grief over the estates, remind them who the rightful owner was, and who the owner is now!"

"Now, to my godson, Harry, I leave one third of my personal fortune, the house at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, and my eternal love. I am so sorry that I was unable to spend much time with you, and it pains me that I will not be there to see you fully grown, see you marry, or see your children. Just remember, I will be with you always, one way or another."

"Since you are still technically a minor, (but braver than most adults I knew,) I must leave conservatorship of the house with an adult until you reach the age of eighteen. To this I charge Albus Dumbledore, and ask that it may continue to be used as the headquarters of the Order, until such time as the coming war is over." Harry felt his chest tighten, as he watched Dumbledore nod his head in agreement with the recording.

"The remaining third of my fortune, as well as half the family fortune, I leave to Arthur and Molly Weasley, who have been good friends these last few years. It is to you that I leave legal guardianship of Harry for the times when he is not with his cursed Aunt and Uncle. You now have legal authority to act on Harry's behalf until the time he is eighteen years of age."

"I've already spoken to Arthur and Molly, Harry, and they readily agreed to take you in. They just didn't know about the rest of my plan!" grinned Sirius as he imagined the Weasley's reaction.

Harry's jaw dropped, and he felt the blood rush in his ears. The idea of actually being a part of a family that loved and wanted him was his dream, the dream he had almost every day of his young life. He had never thought that dream would ever come true, but never gave up hope, no matter how small. He felt his eyes grow hot, as his vision got somewhat misty. He felt someone place their hands on his shoulders, and looked to see Mrs. Weasley standing behind him, tears glistening in her eyes.

"Welcome to the family, Harry, dear," she whispered.

"Thanks," he croaked, his voice trying its best to crack, "I've felt as if I were a part of it for years now!"

"You were, dear, you were!"

The rest of the reading went rather quickly for Harry, who was enjoying the feel of being part of a family, as well as feeling quite warm now that Ginny had slid closer to him and leaned up against him. He could tell she was tired, but the smile on her face never gave it away. He wanted so to put his arm around her and hold her, but he figured that this was not the best time for such a display. So he just enjoyed the closeness of her. He felt content.

Sirius continued to dole out items and bits of wisdom to the other members of the Order, giving Professor McGonagall a huge ruby set in a silver pin that had been a family heirloom for generations. To Professor Dumbledore, he gave his prized collection of puzzles, jokes, and novelties from his school days in Hogwarts, as well as ten pairs of thick woolen socks. Dumbledore could not hide his delight, even if he tried!

He bequeathed the last half of the family fortune to Remus Lupin and the Order, split even amongst the two. Lupin had a haunted look on his face as he watched his friend's final image, and Harry could only guess as to what was going through his mind.

Hermione and Ron were even mentioned in the Will, much to the surprise of both. To Hermione, Sirius left the extensive Black library of magical books, minus the tomes on darker magic. He did admonish her to not try to take them all back to Hogwarts with her, and reminded her that he believed her to be the brightest witch of her age. Hermione, usually one to not shy from the attention, blushed mightily at Sirius' appraisal of her. The members of the Order looked at her approvingly.

As for Ron, Sirius had a very special treat: The Keeper's robe from the Eighteen Ninety-Two Chudley Cannons, the one worn the last time they had won The Quidditch League Cup. Sirius told him that it was to make up for injuring him the first time they met, several years ago. Sirius had gone out and bought it when Ron made Keeper of the Gryffindor Team, and had planned on giving it to him at Christmas, but that fell through, of course!

Hermione and Ron were both shocked senseless. Hermione's eyes glowed with anticipation of getting her hands on all those books, as a single tear ran from the corner of Ron's right eye at the thought of having the ultimate memento from his Favorite team's best year.

"I always knew he was a great guy," he sniffed as Hermione gave him a warm smile.

"And now, finally, for Snivel…er…Severus Snape," began the recording with a wicked grin, "Even though you and I have never been what could be called 'friends', with my death, I believe it is time to bury the hatchet…"

Snape suddenly came to full attention, glancing around, fully alert, to see if the aforementioned axe was heading in his direction. He turned even more pale than his usual shade.

"Don't worry, Severus," continued Sirius, "it's just a figure of speech, besides, I wouldn't dull a good axe that way!" Hermione stifled a giggle, while others cut loose with belly splitting laughs.

"No, I shall leave you something you will appreciate. Down in the cellar, behind the portrait of Reinbert the Rootmonger, and to the left of the bust of Simon the Snarky, you will find my family's prize collection of rare potions and ingredients. Many of these are nigh impossible to find these days. They are yours, use them well, or use them not, it truly doesn't matter to me! Consider it repayment for all the joy you have given me in the past!" concluded the recording, grinning still, obviously imagining the stunned look that was plastered on Snape's pale face. Harry could have swore that Snape's greasy hair was standing on end.

"Well, everyone, that's it! I have nothing else to give but my blessings and best wishes! Alright then, who's up for a party?" finished Sirius as he faded from view, resolving once more into the floating crystal globe. Dumbledore stood up once again, as Mad-Eye Moody reappeared and removed the globe, thumping over to Harry.

"Here you go, Potter," growled Moody as he handed it to Harry, "Sirius wanted you to have this." Harry mumbled his thanks as the lump returned to his throat. The globe felt heavy and cold, and reminded him of nothing like it appeared just seconds before. It seemed to match the stone he felt in the pit of his stomach. He wondered why Sirius had wanted him to keep it?

"And now," began Dumbledore, "before we begin the celebration of Sirius' life, we do have some business to attend to. Sir Vladimir, if you please?" he asked as the Knight stood and joined him the middle of the room. The chamber felt as if it actually got more quiet than it was, like all the sound had been smothered. Everyone knew that if the Knight came forth, it had to be grim news, indeed!

"Harry, Ron, take the girls upstairs, and we will call you when the meeting is over," Mrs. Weasley said as she tried to usher them up and out of the room.

"Hold, Molly," called out Sir Vladimir as he held up his hand, "this involves them as well.

"But, Vlad," she protested, a very worried look crossing her face, "they are just children, and not proper members of the Order yet. They shouldn't have to hear all the sordid details!"

"Aye, children, that they are, but they are warriors bred and true," responded the Knight, "and they have seen more combat these past few years than most have their entire lives. Nothing can change this."

"Vladimir, please," Mrs. Weasley begged, trying to spare the children any harm that may derive from the information about to be revealed. She seemed to have shrunk within her robes as she pleaded with the Knight.

"Molly, in this time of crisis, we have need of all the allies we can muster," Sir Vladimir said gently as he crossed the room over to Mrs. Weasley, his footfalls strangely silent and light for such a large man, "these warriors have proven their worth time and again." Harry and Ron puffed up a bit with pride, as the girls blushed at the Knight's assessment.

"They are the Generals of a young army, and we cannot afford to ignore a force as large as the D.A., a force that I foresee growing by leaps and bounds this coming year! Look at what they have accomplished thus far: they actually managed to enter the Ministry, as well as the Department of Mysteries, despite the security precautions! They fought off fully grown Death Eaters, and kept them from accomplishing their mission! For goodness sakes, many of them can conjure a full fledged Patronus, a feat most adult wizards cannot not perform!"

"With a bit more training, they could be a fighting force the likes of which this world has rarely seen!" concluded Sir Vladimir, admiration in his voice and his eyes.

"Please, we can keep them out of this, can't we?' she cried, a sob escaping her. It was bad enough four of her sons were members and putting themselves in harm's way, she had no desire to see her youngest children in the same danger. The boggart's visions flashed before her eyes once more. "Arthur, Albus?" she asked, looking for agreement from the men, who just shook their heads.

"I understand your fear, Molly, truly I do, but they will involve themselves in this whether we wish them to or not. Generals are only as good as the intelligence they receive, thus, forewarned is forearmed. They stand a much better chance of survival if they have all the facts! Molly, you know we are right about this." he finished softly and kindly.

"I know," Mrs. Weasley sighed as she sagged, then took her seat looking miserable. Her husband sat there and held her as she continued, " but I still don't have to like it! What if they get hurt or…or…,"

"I understand," he said with sympathy as he placed his hands on her and Mr. Weasley's shoulders, his eyes softening somewhat, "I feel the same every time my children go into battle."

"I agree with Mrs. Weasley," called out Snape from the corner, sneering, "I don't think Potter and his friends should be involved with this. They have a bad habit of putting their noses where they do not belong. You never know when they are going to mess things up! Just look at the incident at the Ministry, if you need an example!"

Dumbledore and the Knight both turned to stare at Snape, as did most of the people in the room. He continued to stand there, arms crossed, and looking smug while staring at Harry. Without warning, he yelped and jumped away from the wall, rubbing the back of his leg, as if something had stung him. The two me in the center of the room smiled, then turned their attentions back to the rest of the Order.

"Friends, for those of you who may not have met him," said Dumbledore as he glanced around the room at the assembled members, his long beard and hair swaying slightly in the small air currents , "May I introduce Sir Vladimir von Weighant, of the Order of the Lone Star, Knight Commander, and our liaison between the Knights and the Ministry."

"It seems," he continued, with a twinkle in his eye, "that recent events have gone slightly in our favor, and the Ministry has authorized the Knights to operate in Britain, to help stop Voldemort. The international wizarding community has endorsed this decision, hoping for a swift end to the current crisis."

Dumbledore paused, as his mouth set in a grim line, his eyes hidden behind the glare from his half-moon glasses, "I fear that this is the only bit of good news we have at this time. The other news is, sorry to say, far from good. I turn this meeting over to Sir Vladimir."

"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore," the Knight replied, as Dumbledore took his seat with a swish of his robes. Dumbledore looked rather stern, which was something Harry was not used to, but had seen several times before.

"Unfortunately, this is not the time to mince words, so here goes: Lord Voldemort has stolen Hellcaster!"

End of Chapter Seven.


	8. Chapter 8

-1Chapter Eight: A Threat from the Past.

The air pressure in the room dropped noticeable when Sir Vladimir made the announcement, as nearly all assembled gasped in shock and horror at the information revealed. Harry looked about and saw that many of the faces had lost all their color, and noticed that several people had actually fainted at the Knight's words! This must have been very bad news, indeed!

After several minutes, all who had fainted had been revived, and Sir Vladimir was able to continue on with his briefing. Harry was worried that the Knight would not tell him or his friends exactly what he had meant about Riddle's theft. Harry need not have worried, however, as the Knight had seen several blank looks. Most notably, Sir Vladimir was looking in Harry and the younger member's direction as he spoke. Harry was heartened to see that Fred, George, and Charlie had no idea what was going on, either.

"As you all know, a thousand years ago, Salazar Slytherin had a major disagreement with the other three founders of Hogwarts over the admission of Muggle-born students to the school. Before he left, he created the Chamber of Secrets, well below Hogwarts, housing a giant basilisk, the same basilisk that young Mr. Potter vanquished several years back," started the Knight, as Harry blushed a bit at the approving looks he received from the members of the Order.

"The Chamber and it's horror were not Slytherin's only weapons, unfortunately. Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor became bitter enemies after the altercation, causing Slytherin to vanish for a time to parts unknown. He turned up, several years later, in northern Europe, leading a cabal of thirteen of the darkest and most foul wizards of the time. This cabal tore through the Muggle population with acts of sheer, wanton destruction and cruelty. They actually killed all the Muggles and wizards that lived in a rather large village, then burned the village to the ground. He told all his followers that he need to clear the land to set up a new school of magic, one catering to 'pure-bloods' " Ginny gasped and trembled at the thought of all those innocent people killed. Harry patted her hand, trying to comfort her.

"The killing and burning," Sir Vladimir continued, his face darkening, glancing about to encompass all the emotions in the room, looking for any hint of approval of the terrors, and finding none, "were all part of Slytherin's plan, a plan that the other twelve wizards knew nothing about. He had gather mystic materials and ingredients over the course of their pillaging, and had set up an altar in the exact center of the cursed ground, placing all the materials there."

"An altar? What on earth for?" asked Ron softly to Hermione, who went slightly pale and shushed him.

"Slytherin," Sir Vladimir said, walking a slow circle about the center of the room, passing before everyone in turn, his eyes hooded, and his demeanor changing with every step, "ordered his followers to hold a celebration on the last night of the year, when the moon was new. Slytherin drugged the drinks of the other twelve during the celebration, causing them all to pass into a sleep from which they never would awake. He ordered his servants to place the wizards upon the altar, and at the stroke of midnight, sacrificed them all. He then lit the fire to the altar and began his most vile work."

Harry was becoming alarmed now, as Sir Vladimir walked past him. He actually felt _something_ in the air when the Knight passed, he just wasn't sure what it was. Sir Vladimir continued to stalk through the room, his mood becoming darker, as a small growl escaped is throat. Something about that growl sounded vaguely familiar to Harry.

The Knight stopped before a young wizard Harry had never seen before. He couldn't be more than twenty or so, Harry thought to himself, and was beginning to perspire a bit. Sir Vladimir seemed to be a mountain of power, a power that seemed nigh impossible to constrain, as he stood before the young man.

"Hello, Death Eater," the Knight growled through gritted teeth as the wizard blanched. Jumping up, the wizard reached within his robe, but he was no match for the speed of the Knight. Holding out his hand, a huge surge of energy shot forth from Sir Vladimir and struck the Death Eater square in the chest, blasting him clear across the huge room, and causing him to strike the far wall. He slumped to the ground, leaving the impression of his backside on the thick, wooden wall. He was out cold.

There was sheer mayhem within the room, as several wizards jumped away from the Knight, afraid that they, in turn, would be attacked for what appeared to be no reason. Moody and Dumbledore were both up like a shot and stood beside Sir Vladimir's side, looking warily at the crumpled form at the other end of the room. The figure moaned and stirred, and within the blink of an eye, Sir Vladimir stood above him. Harry was shocked at the speed with which the Knight moved, he never thought that any human could move at that rate of speed without Apparating.

"Sir Vladimir!" screeched a plump witch who had sat next to the suspected Death Eater, "What is the meaning of this? Why did you attack Alfie?" she begged as she stood by the chair she had been seated in, her face a mask of terror and anger.

"My apologies for startling you, Mrs. Baggs," called back the Knight quietly, though the power of his voice seemed to fill the entire room, " but we cannot suffer a Death Eater to attend our meeting!"

"You have no proof!" Mrs. Baggs shrieked, "I personally vouch for him! He's my husband's nephew! I've known him all his life! He's a good lad!!"

"Sheila, I'm sure Sir Vladimir has sufficient proof of his charge, else he would not have made it," Dumbledore said gently as he and Moody walked past and went to stand next to the Knight.

"Proof? Aye, there is that," responded Sir Vladimir as he waved his hand, causing the sleeve of Alfie's robes to shred into a thousand bits, then snapped his fingers, causing a startling revelation: The Dark Mark appeared on Alfie's forearm. Mrs. Baggs screamed in horror and collapsed, just to be caught by Remus Lupin before she hit the floor.

"How did he get into this ruddy place?" asked Moody as his magic eye stopped spinning and locked onto the limp form before him. "I never even detected him!"

"Nor did I, Alastor," replied Dumbledore, somewhat taken aback by the discovery, and looking at the Knight with an approving gaze, "how on earth did you detect him?"

"He was protected by an intense weave of spells, charms and curses, so much so that he stood out like a sore thumb to one trained to spot certain energy patterns," replied Sir Vladimir, "Alastor should understand that, with the training he's had in the past." Moody looked a bit abashed.

"That was some number of years ago, Commander, a regret to have been remiss in my duties and training," he said sadly as he continued to stare at the Death Eater. Harry had never heard Moody sound so contrite before.

"The spy has been caught, Alastor, so no harm done," reassured Dumbledore, looking at Sir Vladimir for support.

" Agreed. It took me over an hour to spot him myself, Lieutenant, that's how intricate the spells were cast," consoled the Knight as he then bent over and picked Alfie up by the front of his robe and hoisted him up against the wall, his feet a good foot above the floor.

"It is as I feared," commented Snape as he joined the group near the Death Eater, "The Dark Lord is using cells, for I have never seen this man before in my life. This bodes ill, indeed!"

"We shall have to administer a Memory Charm after we are done with him," Dumbledore stated aloud, mainly to reassure the rest of the Order that they were safe.

"Now, churl, where does you master hide?" Sir Vladimir demanded in a voice low enough in pitch that the walls and floors reverberated and powerful enough that it shook everyone to the core. Harry immediately wanted to answer him, but had none to give him. He could tell from the looks on his friends' faces that they felt the same way. It seemed to have had the same effect on the Death Eater, as well.

"I…he…Lord…never…ugh…," sputtered Alfie before his head lolled over to the side, his eyes blank, face slack, and spittle dribbling from the side of his mouth. Sir Vladimir, dropped him to the floor, his face contorted in disgust and anger. Harry caught a glimpse of his eyes as he spun around to address Dumbledore and Moody, and was shocked to see a brief flash of a bright blue glow before it dissipated.

"Blast it all! There was a failsafe curse on him!," snarled the Knight as he and the others stormed back to the rest of the group, "It was too deep to find!"

"Someone set an _Obliviate_ curse on him," whispered Hermione to the other three, "and a very powerful one at that!"

"Three guess as to who did that," muttered Ron darkly.

"I only need one," Harry replied, "Tom Riddle!" he spat out, then felt Ginny stiffen beside him. It was Riddle's diary that had cursed her during her first year at Hogwarts. "I'm so sorry, Ginny!"

"Th-that's alright, Harry," she said shakily, "that name still gets to me a bit."

It took several minutes for everyone to calm down and retake their seats. Sheila Baggs was lain upon a nearby sofa, as Lupin and McGonagall both attended to her, slowly bringing her around. Her nephew was taken from the room and locked within one of the upstairs bedrooms, as if they needed secure him. His mind had been completely wiped.

Sir Vladimir crossed over to Mrs. Baggs and lightly touched her forehead, and after he was done, she relaxed and sat back as a peaceful expression crossed her face. "It is for the best," he reassure Lupin and McGonagall, as they looked at him with unspoken questions, "This will allow her to accept the events of the last few minutes, slowly, and help ease her pain."

Harry looked back at Sir Vladimir with new found respect: he was able to detect a Death Eater that Dumbledore and Moody missed, he dealt with him decisively, and then comforted his Aunt. Harry found himself truly liking this Knight, but could now understand a bit of the fear wizards had of him. He had _never_ felt such power coming from anyone, ever, not even during Dumbledore and Riddle's duel in the Ministry. With someone like this on the Order's side, the Death Eaters will never stand a chance!

Sir Vladimir went back to the center of the room and stood their silently as everyone slowly quieted down and turned their attention back to him. "I apologize for what just occurred," he began, addressing everyone in the room, contrition clearly in his voice, "I truly never meant to disrupt the meeting, nor show such disrespect at Sirius' wake. Ms. Tonks, Mr. Potter, please forgive me," he said humbly, his eyes cast down, head bowed, with his right fist covering his heart. Harry and Tonks just nodded their understanding back.

"Now, where was I? Oh, yes, Slytherin and the altar. The altar wasn't what it seemed, it was actually a forge. Using the gathered mystical materials, Slytherin created a new weapon, one in which the power and evil of wizards he sacrificed were now locked: The Sword of Darkness, named Hellcaster."

"Whoa! Now _that_ is Dark Magic!" Ron whispered, as Harry nodded in agreement. This was disturbing, but Harry could not see how it this effected them in the here and now.

"Slytherin then needed to quench his sword, so he called forth his servants, and slew each one with the sword in turn. Not only did this set the blade, it gave it the power to absorb negative energies, drawing all the dark magic and evil within it's reach to itself and it's wielder, increasing the power of both. Slytherin now had his weapon of vengeance, and set off immediately for Hogwarts."

There was a muttering amongst those assembled at that little bit of news. Most of those who knew of Hellcaster knew next to nothing of it's abilities, and this gave them pause. The very idea of Riddle having a weapon of such power was disturbing to Harry, and completely frightening to the other three. He had been hard enough to beat the first five times, how could he be defeated now?, Harry wondered to himself.

"The remaining three founders of Hogwarts had no intention of allowing Slytherin to take over. As luck would have it, Godric Gryffindor got word of Slytherin returning to the British Isles, and tracked down his location to put a stop to him," stated Sir Vladimir as he gazed around the room, "The two met at Glastonbury Tor, and in a cataclysmic battle, Gryffindor ,with his sword ,defeated Slytherin. It seems that Slytherin had neglected to increase the sword's power, he was in such a rush to get back to Hogwarts."

"Slytherin did not survive the encounter, in fact, the sword swallowed him up after his death. Gryffindor knew that he had to hide the sword, for it had proven invulnerable to his, or anyone else, magic. Nothing he or others tried could destroy it. So he, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and a visiting wizard created an indestructible container to hold it. Saying his goodbyes, Gryffindor left for parts unknown to hide the sword. He returned ten years later."

Hermione was enraptured with the Knight's story, Harry could tell, as she sat perfectly still, wide eyed, on the edge of her seat. Even Ron seemed engrossed, his mouth open with wonder. Ginny, however, snuggled closer to Harry, her fear growing more apparent by the second.

"Now, twenty years ago," Sir Vladimir continued, "when Voldemort (there multiple gasps around the room) was rising to power, he discovered the location of Hellcaster from his sources within the Ministry of Magic. He gathered his most powerful followers and lead an attack on the Monastery of St. Godric, which had been constructed by Gryffindor to hide the sword. He burned the Monastery down and slew all the monks present, however, when he touched the door to the Cathedral, several powerful magic barriers sprang forth, injuring Voldemort and killing many of his followers. He was forced to retreat and lick his wounds."

Hermione raised her hand, "Sir, if he was repelled the first time, how was he able to get it this time?" Harry and several others were wondering the same thing.

"Good question, Miss Granger," replied the Knight as he continued his story, "Voldemort discovered that one monk _had_ survived the attack, and was now the Bishop in charge of the Cathedral. After finding him in America, where he had hidden, Voldemort forced him to enter the Cathedral and bring forth the sword. The bishop was killed soon after," he said sadly.

"So, an indestructible weapon that increases a Dark Wizard's powers is now in the hands of You-Know-Who," spouted off Fred.

"Well, that's it for us!," replied George, continuing the thought. There was a muttering of agreement around the room, as Mrs. Weasley shot her twins a withering look. There seemed to be an edge of panic floating about the room. Sir Vladimir held up his hands to calm those assembled, but the Knight was being ignored as the din got louder and louder. Professor Dumbledore stood and tried to get everyone's attention, but to no avail.

Harry was getting worried now, not at Riddle having Hellcaster , but at everyone's panic. Ron was hyperventilating, as tears streamed down Ginny's face. Harry put his arms around her to comfort her. Hermione had gone deathly pale, and started trembling. This did not look good, Harry thought to himself.

"Pardon me, everyone," Sir Vladimir said, trying to get everyone's attention. The din was getting louder.

"Calm down, please," called out Dumbledore, with no effect. Frustrated, he turned to Sir Vladimir, "If you would do the honors?"

"As you wish," replied the Knight, as he cleared his throat, "SILENCE!!!" he commanded, with a sound that shook the room like a bomb. Everyone jumped a foot in the air, and turned to face Dumbledore and Sir Vladimir. The sound shook Harry to the core, as something tugged at his memory at the power of the command.

"Thank you," replied Dumbledore, "everyone just needs to relax! Hellcaster is not a threat as of yet!"

"Correct," continued the Knight, "The sword is still sealed within it's indestructible casing! He cannot open it without the key!"

There was a collective sigh of relief as all settled back down and took their seats. Harry felt Ginny relax, as Ron slowed his breathing. Hermione got some her color back.

"Where is the key, sir?" asked Harry.

"It is in a safe, guarded place, Harry," replied Sir Vladimir, "where it has remained hidden for the past one thousand years. The chances of Voldemort ever finding it are next to nil, but we do have contingency plans in place for if he ever does."

Ginny tentatively raised her hand, "Er, sir? C-couldn't we just use Godric Gryffindor's sword to fight Hellcaster, like before?" she asked as she glanced over at Harry, who blushed somewhat.

"Would that we could, Ginny," stated Sir Vladimir, "However, Gryffindor barely defeated the sword last time. Hellcaster has had a thousand years to absorb Dark Power from the area, what little there was. Every time Voldemort and his followers use magic for evil purposes around it, it grows stronger, and every time they visit a location where great acts of evil occurred, it grows stronger. Gryffindor's sword is no match for it now." Ginny went pale again.

"I'm not trying to frighten you, Ginny, nor am I trying to frighten anyone else, but you have to have these facts. Gryffindor barely managed to defeat Hellcaster the first time. This time, the sword of Gryffindor would not stand a chance."

"As Sir Vladimir had said," stated Dumbledore loudly, as he raised his voice to cut off the murmuring, "We have contingency plans in place! Also, remember that Voldemort does not have the key, nor it's location! You may rest easy for now!"

After a few more items, the meeting broke up as everyone waited for the feast to be brought forth. Dumbledore was determined to send Sirius out on a wild note! As everyone began to set up the tables, Sir Vladimir pulled Harry to the side.

"Harry, when you get back to Hogwarts, you need to call forth your Army, and give them a rundown on what has happened. Don't be remiss in your training! Make sure you set up a day for you to meet every week, more often if possible. You will have to work extra hard to make up for last year," Sir Vladimir said as he and Harry stood in the corner, apart from the others.

"Uh, okay, but won't that upset the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?" asked Harry, a bit perplexed.

"I don't think he'll mind too terribly much, since he's the one asking you to do it in the first place," replied the Knight with a smile.

Harry stood there, agape, "Huh? You? Wow!" he stammered, looking at Sir Vladimir approvingly, "That's great!"

"Thank you, Harry! I hope I'll live up to your expectations," he said with a wink. "Now, back to business. I'm going to have my hands full getting the rest of the students, especially the younger years, up to speed. Dolores Umbridge did her work well: No one learned a thing last year."

"Is there anything we can do to help?" asked Harry earnestly.

"Indeed! I shall have to call upon you and the rest of the D.A. as teacher's aides. Your job will be to help me in class, as well as outside the class. We shall concentrate on the practical aspects of defense, but not to the total exclusion of the theoretical. All students have to brought up to the proper level."

"All students?" Harry asked, screwing up his face a bit, "Even Slytherins?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter, even Slytherins. They are not all like your …_friend_…Mr. Malfoy," stated Sir Vladimir, looking as if he had tasted something foul at the name.

"I haven't met many that weren't," grumped Harry, looking a bit angry, thinking of all the vile things Slytherin House had put him through.

"Trust me, Harry," Said Sir Vladimir, "being ambitious doesn't make one evil. It's the path one chooses to take to achieve those goals that count. Some take the slow, proper path, earning everything they get. Others, like the Bouncing Ferret…er...Mr. Malfoy… have had everything given to them, or have been taught that if you want something, you must take it, no matter what."

"That last bit sounds like Malfoy, spot on," replied Harry, who noticed a strange twinkle in Sir Vladimir's eye.

"Tell you what, Mr. Potter," Sir Vladimir said with a mischievous grin on his face, "If you'll do as I ask and help the rest of the Slytherins, I shall give Mr. Malfoy and his friends my…_personal_…attention."

"This sounds like it will be a very interesting school year," Harry replied as he nodded in agreement.

"Oh, you have no idea, Harry," chuckled the Knight as he patted Harry on the back. "Now, come, the feast awaits, and I am just a bit peckish! I reckon that you could do with a bit of food as well, we'll get some meat on those bones before long!"

With that, the two rejoined the rest as the feast began in earnest. Long tables and matching chairs had replaced the high-backed, uncomfortable ones that everyone had sat in during the will reading. Dinner was served, flagons of pumpkin juice and butterbeer were passed around, and stories were shared.

Harry and the others sat back and laughed with the rest as the feast wound down and the music started, with numerous stories of Sirius being passed around the room, many of which dealt with his school days. Snape scowled at the telling and retelling of the stories, most of which had him as the object of the actions of Sirius and his bunch. He was more interested in getting his hands on the potion ingredients promised him.

Spirits soared, prompting many to leave the table and start dancing to the music coming from the magic wireless. Ginny, feeling much better after dinner ( and several butterbeers) jumped up and dragged Harry from his chair, urging him to dance with her. He didn't need much coaxing, and soon the two joined the others on the dance floor.

Dumbledore, for his part, did his best to not let Sirius down. He dragged poor Professor McGonagall to the floor and danced a jig with her, as the gaudiest lampshade he could muster sat upon his gray head. Professor McGonagall did her best not to fall as she followed Dumbledore's lead, but her cane was making it almost impossible.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley danced with one another as Ron looked on uncomfortably. Hermione was doing her best to entertain him with what she had learned from her special book. Ron appeared ready to die of terminal boredom. Sir Vladimir had taken his post in the corner once more and watched everyone having a good time, a smile gracing his lips.

Hours passed and the wake wound down as people said their goodbyes and drifted off into the night. The Weasleys had already planned on staying the night, so rooms were readied for Harry and the others as they finally dragged themselves from the main room toward the stairs. Harry felt as if he were about to drop, he was physically exhausted from the Quidditch practice, and emotionally drained from the wake. He wanted nothing more than to collapse and fall asleep in the closest bed.

Then, it happened.

Harry was startled by a muffled curse, one that became louder by the second. Rounding the corner, Professor Snape came stomping down the hall, his voice loud enough to wake the dead.

"I DON'T BELIEVE IT!! EVEN IN DEATH, HE TORMENTS ME!! HE MOCKS ME!! IF HE WERE ALIVE, I'D KILL HIM!!" bellowed Snape at the top of his lungs. His hair was disheveled, and his face was redder than a beet. A familiar odor drifted across the hall, causing Harry to stifle a laugh.

Dumbledore and the others came charging out of the main room to see what had happened. They all skid to a halt when they saw Snape. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled and his mustache twitched for just the barest second.

"Severus, please calm down," he urged, trying his best to calm Snape down, who continued to fume as Dumbledore asked, "What ever is the matter?"

"WHAT'S THE MATTER?! DUNGBOMBS!! HE RIGGED THE INGREDIENT ROOM WITH DUNGBOMBS!!"

Harry bit his tongue to keep from laughing aloud, as he didn't need to give Snape anymore reason to hate him. Ron snorted, then put his fist over his mouth, as if to cover a cough. Fred and George looked at each other, sheer admiration on their faces.

"Professor Snape! Hush, before you wake her!" hissed Mrs. Weasley as she pointed toward the fabric covered painting on the wall.

"Do not try to silence me, woman! I have been grievously insulted, and I will not keep quiet about it!" snarled Snape, fire flashing in his eyes.

"NOOOOOOOO!! Scum! Filth! Blood Traitors! How dare you profane my house with your presence!" screamed a voice from behind the curtain. Professor Snape's outrage awakened the portrait of Sirius Black's mother, who now screamed all manner of vile insults and curses in their direction.

"Now you've done it!" yelled Mrs. Weasley, so as to be heard above the din, "You know it's almost impossible to silence her!"

"Animals! Freaks! Mudbloods! Mutants! Aberrations! You defile my house!" screamed the portrait, the fabric covering it flying back to reveal the maddened face within.

"Oh shut up, you old hag!" Mrs. Weasley screamed right back as she and her husband fought to pull the curtains back over the painting.

Harry was torn between being amused at Snape's condition and being annoyed at the screaming of the portrait. Annoyed was winning, as the noise got louder and louder, forcing Harry to cover his ears.

"I wish the bloody thing would shut up!" yelled Ron, his eyes scrunched in pain.

"What?!" Harry hollered back.

"I said, I wish it would shut up!" Ron repeated, even louder this time. Harry just shook his head in confusion.

The Weasleys fought a losing battle, the picture kept getting louder and refused to be silenced. The curtain kept leaping from their hands and flapped from the power of the voice. Harry pressed his fists over his ears and squinted his eyes, praying that someone just put a stop to it. He blinked, and saw Sir Vladimir standing before the portrait, one hand behind his back.

"Master of the House," called out the Knight to Harry, his voice easily cutting through the din, "With your permission…?"

"Yes! Yes!" Harry yelled back, "Anything! Just make her stop!"

"As you wish," replied Sir Vladimir, as he pulled his hand out from behind his back. He held a large dagger, one that appeared to be identical to the one Harry owned. The Knight held it out to the side.

"NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!" screamed Mrs. Black when she noticed the Knight standing before her. A green band of energy formed at the base of the blade, near the crossguard, which slowly wound itself about until it met the blade's tip. The glowing spiral started rotating around the blade, growing in brightness until the tip was so bright, it was impossible to look at directly. The Weasleys rushed to get out of the way.

With a quick flick of his wrist, Sir Vladimir buried the shining blade deep within the center of the portrait. Mrs. Black screamed in agony as a green flame leapt from the blade and slowly ate it's way toward the inner edge of the frame.

The noise abruptly stopped when the flame reached her mouth, then totally engulfed the canvas. The silence was deafening. Everyone in the hall stopped in their tracks, utterly speechless. Even Snape stopped his fussing and fuming. All eyes were riveted to the picture frame. With a slow, deliberate movement, Sir Vladimir removed the blade from the wall and placed it back in it's scabbard. It was then something amazing happened.

The green flame returned to the frame, working it's way _back _to the center, replacing canvas as it went. After it reached the center and extinguished itself, all jaws dropped in wonder. A new painting replaced the old: one of Sirius Black, and Lily and James Potter.

It was identical to the photo in Harry's album, the one taken at their wedding. They stood there and waved back at everyone, all three were happiness and grins. Harry felt his throat tighten as he watched his parents and their best friend. He felt his friend's hands as they patted his shoulder.

"Does this meet with your approval?" asked Sir Vladimir, as he turned to face Harry.

"Wow!" exclaimed Harry, once he had found his voice, "Er, yeah! It's great! Thanks!" The Knight placed his fist over his heart and nodded in salute.

"Harry, it's wonderful!" Hermione said breathlessly as she stood beside him.

"Wonderful? It's bloody brilliant!, said Ron as he joined his friends, "If I'd known a Knight could have shut up that old battleaxe, I'd have asked Dad to invite one ages ago!"

"Now, now, Mr. Weasley, don't be rude," interjected the Knight, causing Ron's face to fall a bit, "Let's not give old battleaxes a bad name!" he said with a grin and a wink. Ron busted out with a belly splitting laugh, followed closely by most of the rest.

"Now, off to bed with you lot," Dumbledore said as he ushered the teenagers up the stairs.

"Excuse me," called out Snape, rather icily, "we still have not addressed my grievance!" All eyes turned his way.

"I demand compensation for my loss," he said plainly, with a greasy smile curling his lips. "Ms. Granger's library should do nicely!"

"WHAT?!" yelled Ron, his face burning redder than his hair. Hermione's jaw dropped, as her skin went white. Her lower lip began to tremble.

"Her library, Weasley, her precious books," Snape smirked, "that should do nicely. The loss of my potions ingredients shall be paid for!"

"You can't do that!" Harry yelled, edging closer to Snape, who just stood there, arms crossed and looking smug.

"Really, Potter? Just who is going to stop me? You?"

"I shall," replied Sir Vladimir as he stepped between Harry and Snape. They stood nose to nose, as a low growl built up in the Knight's throat. Snape blanched, but stood his ground.

"Gentlemen, please," Dumbledore asked as he stood next to the two, ready to break up any confrontation. "Severus, are you tell me that there are no potions or such down in the basement?"

"Well, obviously not," Snape snarled, never taking his eyes from Sir Vladimir, "No sooner had I opened the door, I was being pummeled with Dungbombs!"

"Did you ever think to actually enter the room?" asked the Knight sarcastically. Snape's glare faltered for just a second, but he never answered nor averted his eyes.

"Well, Severus?," urged Dumbledore, "Did you go in and see to your inheritance? Were the ingredients there?"

"Uh, no, headmaster," replied Snape, turning to face Dumbledore, "I never actually entered, it was obviously a trap set by Black before his…_demise. _In all probability, there is nothing there but more mischief!"

"Come, Severus, let's go down there and see," said Dumbledore soothingly as he put his hand on Snape's back and lead him away from the rest of the group. Snape shot Hermione and Harry both a venomous look, but couldn't meet Sir Vladimir eye to eye for long before dropping his gaze to the floor and following Dumbledore out of the hall.

"Okay, folks, that's enough excitement for the night!" said Sir Vladimir as he gathered the teenagers back up and ushered them up the stairs, "You will need plenty of rest, for I'll not have tired students under my watch. Trust me, you'll need the energy!" Ron, Ginny and Hermione gave the Knight a strange look, as Harry did his best not to smile.

"Whew! What a night!" exclaimed Ron as he flopped down on the bed that had been prepared for him in the upstairs bedroom.

"Yeah! It's definitely one for the books!" responded Harry as he carefully set the crystal globe upon his pillow. He treasured it like he did his photo album. A knock at the door pulled him from his reverie.

Ron let Hermione and Ginny into the room as Hermione asked, "I wonder what Sir Vladimir meant when he said what he did about students and his watch?" She looked at Harry suspiciously.

"I dunno," said Ron as he started unfolding the pajamas that lay on the bed.

"Harry, I saw the two of you speaking to one another earlier, do you have any idea what he's on about?" Hermione inquired, the idea of not knowing everything was driving her silly.

"Er, well, gather round, and don't let a word get out about this," said Harry quietly as the others came closer, Hermione sitting on Ron's bed, and Ginny seating herself next to Harry. Her closeness warmed Harry's heart.

"Well? What is it?" asked Ron, getting a bit annoyed at the fact he couldn't go to bed just yet.

"Sir Vladimir is our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor," replied Harry, with a very large grin.

"Wow!" gasped Ginny, "That's great!

"Great? It's bleeding excellent!" exclaimed Ron as his eyebrows met his hairline, a huge smile plastered on his face.

"Yeah! Just imagine what he could teach us! I need to get cracking on re-reading my book!" gushed Hermione. The others swore that they could see the cogs turning in her mind.

After discussing the facts of Sir Vladimir's new position, Harry brought up the Knight's idea of helping him with the classes. The reaction was mixed, to say the least.

"What?! You mean we'd have to help the Slytherins?!" bellowed Ron, prompting the other three to hush him up, lest it brought down the wrath of Mrs. Weasley. They were, after all, supposed to be going to sleep.

Harry explained Sir Vladimir's reasons for helping even Slytherins, and how not all Slytherins were bad.

"Ha! The day I meet a good Slytherin is the day I ride Pig in a Quidditch match!" growled Ron, still sore from his experiences with the Slytherins the previous term. There was suddenly two loud pops of displaced air, as Fred and George apparated into the room.

"Oy! Ron! What's going on?" asked Fred as he took a seat upon the foot of Ron's bed.

"Yeah!" joined in George, "You're yelling loud enough to wake a sleeping troll!" Before Ron could tell them what was going on two more pops caused the group to turn around.

"What's the problem in here?" demanded Charlie as he stood there in his pajamas.

"Check it out, Charlie, there's a party going on that we didn't know about!" Bill quipped as he looked at everyone, a big grin on his face. "Okay, Ron, what's up?" Ron and Harry gave them all a quick run down on what had happened thus far, including Ron's assessment of the Slytherins as a whole.

"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you, Ron," Bill mused, scratching his chin, "I knew quite a few Slytherins of good character when I was Head Boy, including the prefects at the time." Ron snorted.

"Unfortunately, Malfoy and his girlfriend are the Slytherin prefects now," Ron grumbled, not at all liking it that his brother wasn't siding with him, "They aren't the nicest people around, you know!"

"True," Hermione added, "but both are from ancient families, so called 'pure-bloods'." She twisted her mouth in distain.

"Many of the Slytherins I knew were hard workers," Charlie said, "They had set goals, and worked their tails off to achieve them. Like the Knight said, ambition isn't necessarily a bad thing."

"Some people could use a bit of ambition," Bill said as he knocked on Ron's head lightly, grinning warmly. "So tell us, Ron, have you decided on what to concentrate on these next two years?"

"Uh, not yet," Ron said glumly, "I was kind of waiting on the O.W.L.'s to get an idea."

"You haven't gotten your results yet?" asked Bill incredulously.

"None of us have," Hermione added, an apprehensive look about her face, "Oh, I do hope I've done well!"

"Hermione," Ron said, "If there is anyone who shouldn't have to worry about the O.W.L.'s, it's you! You're probably the only student in Hogwarts' history who'll score an 'O' in every single subject!" Hermione reached over and hit him with a pillow, grinning. Everyone laughed.

The laughter ended suddenly with a loud thump on the door. The four elder Weasleys disappeared with a 'crack', leaving the four teenagers alone as Mrs. Weasley entered the room.

"What are you doing up so late? We have a busy day tomorrow! Girls, go back to your room and get some sleep! Harry, Ron, go to bed!"

"Good night, Harry," Ginny said with a smile as her fingers brushed his as she rose to leave.

"Good night, Ginny," he replied, smiling as well. Ron gave the both of them a puzzled look.

After the girls had departed, Ron and Harry tried to stay up and discuss the day, but the emotional and physical fatigue were too great, and the two soon fell into the Sandman's grasp.


	9. Chapter 9

-1Chapter Nine: A Good Slytherin?

The next day came early, indeed, as Mrs. Weasley woke them up not too long after the sun came up. The trip back to the Burrow was postponed, as it was necessary to remain in London to settle the legal matters brought up by Sirius' will. After a quick breakfast of toast and jam, they were off.

The changing of custody of Harry from Sirius to the Weasleys was the easy part. Arthur was able to get the paperwork to pass through rather quickly, as there was no one there to protest the changes. Harry's court appointed advocate could think of no one more qualified to watch over Harry than the current Minister of Magic. The changes were approved by both Muggle and Magical Ministries.

The Advocate was a bit worried about Harry remaining in Vernon and Petunia's custody when out of school, but letters from Albus Dumbledore and Lord Thunder helped to settle the matter. The Advocate was far from pleased, and couldn't understood the reasoning behind it.

"Lord Thunder is a close relative to Harry as well," the Advocate said to Arthur, "surely, Harry would remain safe with him, would he not?"

"I wish it was that simple," began Arthur, "but as you can see, this is a rather…_complicated_…situation. As this affidavit plainly states…"

"Ah. Indeed," sighed the Advocate, "Protection of both the minor and his non-magical family. You understand why I ask about this, do you not? I am charged with seeing to Mr. Potter's welfare, and protecting his interests. I have looked into the Dursleys, and they are far from ideal."

"I understand, believe me," replied Arthur, "It pains us to see Harry with them, but it is for only one month a year. If we could watch him all year, we would." The Advocate just nodded his head, before stamping his approval on the application.

"Well, Harry, welcome to the family!" beamed Arthur as he walked from the office and met up with the rest of the clan.

"Thanks!" exclaimed Harry, as he was smothered in hugs by all the ladies. Harry felt happier now than he had in a long time. Ginny was the last to let go of him as the group was gathered up to head for their next appointment.

The hard part came when it was time to transfer assets to the various parties. The goblins of Gringott's Wizarding Bank were difficult to deal with on ordinary occasions, but the transfer of such large monetary assets were enough to set them all aflame. Mr. Weasley made sure to bring a representative of the Ministry who was fluent in Gobbledygook to make sure the transactions went as smoothly as possible.

After many hours of arguing, shouts, threats, fists thumping tables, and sparklers being shot around the room, the goblins were satisfied that the monies were being transferred between accounts, and not being removed from the bank proper. It was a letter from a certain Knight, one that had arrived late, that helped to settle the matter. For some strange reason, even goblins listened to Knights.

The whole crew arrived back to Number 12 Grimmauld Place late in the afternoon, thoroughly exhausted. It was strange, thought Harry, that the one constant between the Muggle and Magical worlds was bureaucracy. The Muggle paper pushers didn't even blink at the thought of a hidden magical world, but Heaven save you if you didn't have all the proper paperwork filled out!

As they walked in, Harry was in for a bit of a shock. Several individuals, all dressed in black robes sporting the same bird crest as Sir Vladimir, were working furiously about the mansion. It seemed a bit odd to have all these strangers walking about the place, and turned to give Mrs. Weasley a quizzical look.

"Don't worry, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, trying to abate his obvious confusion, "They're just a clean up crew from The Knights Academy."

"Clean up crew?" Harry asked, still a bit puzzled.

"Indeed, Harry," replied Sir Vladimir as he came around the corner, cleaning a particularly nasty bit of goo from his sword before re-sheathing it. "as Mrs. Weasley can attest, this place had some rather bad infestations: boggarts, doxies, and a few other…_unpleasant_…things. Until the infestations are dealt with, this place will not be fit for you, or your future family, to live within."

"Oh, okay," replied Harry, still finding it a little hard to believe that this huge house was now his. He blushed a bit, though, when the Knight mentioned 'future family'. He wondered if Ginny would be happy there, then quickly pushed the thought from his mind. Harry glanced at Ginny for just the briefest of seconds, but Ginny saw him and blushed mightily.

After an early dinner, and then saying a few quick farewells, they all piled back into the waiting Ministry car and made their way back to the Burrows. Lying in front of the house, just to the side of the front door, was a large fuzzy brown lump.

"Errol," sighed Mrs. Weasley as she walked up and picked the fuzzy lump up by the pair of legs sticking up in the air.

"Is he dead?" asked Ginny as she came up and examined the limp owl.

"No, only stunned," her mother replied as she gently shook the owl, causing it to slowly rouse.

"That ruddy thing is useless," grumbled Ron as he bent down to pick up the bundle of envelopes that had dropped from Errol's leg, "more so than Pig!"

"I'll say this for Errol, when he makes an entrance, he really makes an entrance," Harry said as he glanced around, following the trail of feathers from the wall of the house, back toward a large tree branch, and then over to the side of the barn. Poor Errol had obviously had a bad night.

"Oy!" yelled Ron as he looked up from the bundle of letters, his skin going pale.

"What's wrong?" asked Hermione, concern clear in her voice.

"These! Th-they're here!" stammered Ron, his hands shaking violently. Hermione and Harry rushed to his side.

"What?" Harry asked in alarm.

"Our O.W.L.'s! Our O.W.L.'s have arrived!" exclaimed Ron, his face pale and drawn.

"Well, it's about time!" huffed Hermione as she reached over and snatched them from a stunned Ron, "Professor McGonagall said they should have been here by mid-July!"

"It's all fine for you, Hermione," stammered Ron, snatching the packet back, digging for his results, "you probably scored an 'O' in every subject!"

"Don't be silly, Ron," said Hermione as she retrieved the packet back after Ron located his results.

Ron was very correct, for Hermione received an O.W.L. in every subject, eleven in all, and each and every one of them at the 'Outstanding' level. Harry and Ron both scored O.W.L.'s in every subject as well, with over half at the 'Outstanding' level. All three scored the top mark in Defense Against the Dark Arts, much to Mrs. Weasley's great pleasure.

"Well done, well done indeed! I am so proud of you lot, scoring as well as you did, with all the unpleasantness of last year!" Mrs. Weasley gushed happily as she busied herself about the kitchen, getting everything ready for the evening meal. Harry, Ron and Hermione were extremely pleased with themselves, but Harry did question a few of the results.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm happy with my grades, but I am a tad confused. I'm sure that my History of Magic and Astronomy scores are well above what they should have been." confessed Harry as he helped set the table. Ron gave him a punch in the arm.

"Listen to the man, griping because he got a good score! Some people are never happy…Ow!!" he cried as a large wooden spoon ricocheted of the back of his head. Ginny stood behind him, looking fierce, with her hands on her hips.

"Leave him alone, Ron!" she whispered in a deadly voice, between gritted teeth.

"Ginny Weasley!" shouted her mother rather sternly, "Don't throw things at your brother! You may break something!"

"Gee, your concern is touching," sulked Ron as he took his place at the table, just as his mother whacked him in the head with another spoon, "Cripes! What did you do that for?!"

"Don't talk that way to me, young man," scolded his mother, as she placed the food on the table, calling everyone else to dinner, "Harry, I think they took into consideration everything that happened in the end of the year, and graded accordingly. Sometimes, the right things do happen, and this is one of those times." Harry just nodded his head, as everyone began to tuck in.

The night prior to their return to Hogwarts, the Burrow was all a bustle as everyone scattered to gather their school supplies. Ron and Ginny's new brooms were parked next to Harry's Firebolt in the front room, next to the door, ready to grab on the way out. Harry made sure to pack his crystal globe from Sirius within the folds of his new Quidditch robe.

"When do you think we'll start the D.A. meetings again?" asked Ron as he placed his prefect's badge in his trunk and sat on the lid to force it closed.

"I dunno," Harry replied as he dug his Wand Care Kit out from under the bed, scaring off several live dust bunnies in the process, "I guess as soon as we get our class schedules. We'll pass the message along to everyone we can find on the train, telling them to prepare for a meeting and to spread the word."

"Can't believe that Sir Vladimir is our new teacher," grunted Ron as he finally closed the latch to his trunk and took several careful steps back, as if afraid the trunk would explode and spill it's contents everywhere. "From what Hermione keeps shoving down our throats, these guys practically invented Dark Arts defense!"

"So, did you see how Moody actually seemed to defer to him? Wonder what that was all about?" mused Harry as he looked about to see if he missed anything. "Are you going to leave that here?"

"Huh? What?" asked Ron as he looked to where Harry was pointing, "Oh no!" Ron had forgotten to pack his Chudley Cannons robe, the prized possession that Sirius had left him.

"There is no way you're going to get it into that trunk," stated Harry. Ron had a look of absolute desperation about him.

"Uh, Harry," began Ron, with a bit of a sad look on his face, "You wouldn't be able to…?"

"Sure, Ron," Harry answered, "go ahead! I've got lots of room!"

"Thanks, Harry!" beamed Ron as he carefully removed his prized robe from it's place of honor and ever so gently folded it and placed it in Harry's trunk.

"Anyway, I hadn't had a chance to tell you yet," continued Ron as he sat on the edge of his bed, looking around to see if he had missed anything else, "About Moody, Dad says he actually attended the Knight's Academy after his Auror training, achieving the rank of Leftenant, he did. That's what helped to make him one of the best Aurors the Ministry ever had, said Dad."

"Wow!" exclaimed Harry, amazed in the extreme, "I didn't know wizards could attend the Knights Academy! That would be fantastic!"

"It's bloody rare," Ron stated, "only Aurors who show vast talent are even invited to attend. Moody is the only one to make it passed the rank of Sergeant."

"I'll be lucky to make Auror," mumbled Harry, sitting dejectedly on his bed, "the only thing I'm good at is Quidditch."

"Harry," said Ron, sitting there looking somewhat aghast, "are you mental? I wouldn't put it passed you to surpass Moody!" Harry grinned at his friends assessment of his abilities, as he and Ron finished their packing and made ready to turn in for the night. Harry was ready to return home, and soon fell asleep, as visions of a grand castle filled the recesses of his tired mind.

The next morning, two Ministry cars arrived to take them all back to London. Remus Lupin was driving the lead car, and waved to everyone as he got out to help them load their things. Mr. Weasley was already at the Ministry due to a crisis that arose earlier in the morning, so it was up to Lupin and Mrs. Weasley to see the teenagers off.

The trip to London was uneventful, with the exception of Ron. He had been practicing sleight of hand tricks Fred and George had taught him with his pack of Exploding Snap cards, when all the cards in his hand went up in flames ("Ouch!" he cried ,as the others laughed) singeing his fingers quite nicely.

For reasons unknown, King's Cross station was busier than normal, so they took extreme care entering the gate to Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Lupin kept lookout as first Ginny and Hermione, then Ron and Harry, entered through the magic arch. Lupin and Mrs. Weasley soon followed.

All the baggage, including all the pets ( much to Crookshanks' annoyance, he hated traveling in a cage) were packed in the baggage car, as Mrs. Weasley gave them all a big good-bye hug ("Ooof!" grunted Ron). Lupin gave Harry and Ron a hearty handshake as he spoke quietly to both.

"Don't forget what Sir Vladimir told you, Harry," Lupin said softly, "assemble the D.A. as soon as possible, and keep an eye out for anything unusual."

"Like what?" asked Ron, looking about rather conspicuously.

"Boys, listen closely. There have already been several attacks against Muggles, and Muggle-borns. Voldemort is getting bolder, I wouldn't put it passed him to try an attack of some sort at Hogwarts."

"How?" responded Harry, "There's no way Riddle can get into Hogwarts, not with Dumbledore and Sir Vladimir there."

"True," replied Lupin, "but he does have sympathizers there, especially the children of Death Eaters."

"Malfoy," growled Harry. Lupin nodded his head in agreement.

"Don't forget Crabb, Goyle, and few others," added Ron, the hair on the back of neck starting to rise.

"Thanks, Ron, that's all I need," muttered Harry, "guess I'll just have to keep looking over my shoulder all year!"

"That's a good idea, " Lupin said, " but I doubt they'll try anything as overt as an attack on you, Harry. It's too obvious. I'm more concerned about the Muggle-Born students."

"Hermione!" exclaimed Ron, his face going dark.

"Exactly! We know that there is no love lost between Hermione and Malfoy, and she was already attacked once, a few years back, as you know. You boys keep an eye on her."

"You can count on it," replied Harry as he and Ron bid Lupin goodbye and boarded the train. Hermione and Ginny soon joined them as they located an empty compartment and settled in.

It wasn't long after the Hogwarts Express pulled out of King's Cross that Ron and Hermione left to join the other prefects at the front of the train, leaving Ginny and Harry alone with each other for the first time in several days. She got up and sat next to Harry and snuggled up next to him. In a gesture that was both automatic and natural, Harry put his arm around her and pulled her close. They both sat there contently before Ginny stirred a bit.

"Harry?" she asked, looking into his green eyes, feeling herself getting lost in their depths.

"Yes, Ginny?"

"I've been meaning to ask you something for quite some time now. I was wondering if you would like…" Ginny was interrupted as the door to their compartment burst open. She held back her anger at being disturbed when she saw Neville Longbottom standing in the doorway, breathing heavily.

"Harry! Ginny!" Neville cried out, "Do you mind if we sit with you? Everyone's telling me that Malfoy is in a foul mood and wants to try out a new spell on me!"

"Sure, Neville," replied Harry as Ginny sat up and patted Harry's hand. "We?"

"Hi, Harry! Hi, Ginny!" called out an airy voice from behind Neville, which turned out to belong to Luna Lovegood, who entered the compartment when Neville stepped out of her way. Neville looked down the corridor nervously, then closed the door and took a seat next to Luna. She scooted closer to Neville once he got settled. Harry's eyebrow shot up imperceptivity at the sight.

"How was your holiday, Neville?" asked Harry as he watched Neville start to calm down somewhat, especially once Luna got closer to him. A little of the color came back to his face. Luna stared at Neville with her usual glazed look, but something was a bit different. Harry couldn't be sure, but he started to think Luna had a thing for Neville. It seemed mutual. Good for him, Harry thought.

"It was horrible," mumbled Neville, his eyes downcast.

"Did you get into trouble over what happened at the Ministry?," Ginny asked. She kind of had a soft place in her heart for Neville. She had agreed to go as his date to the Yule Ball a few years back.

"Well, yes and no," replied Neville, looking a bit confused, "She was very proud of me for helping fight the Death Eaters, but she did give me grief over breaking my Dad's wand!" He started trembling a bit.

"Like I told you, Neville," said Luna as she pulled out a copy of _The Quibbler_ from out of the pocket of her robes and started flipping through it, "That wasn't your fault!"

"I know, but it was Dad's wand," Neville said softly, a slight quiver to his voice, "I feel like I let him down."

"Excuse me?" gasped Ginny, "How can you think that?"

"Look, Neville," said Harry, "You're a student at Hogwarts, and you managed to survive an encounter with a rather nasty squad of Death Eaters. To top it off, you helped keep them from accomplishing their mission! Your parents would both be proud!" Neville beamed at the thought.

"I wonder why Malfoy's trolling around for you anyway? He should be upfront with the rest of the prefects," Ginny added.

"Maybe he has Battling Bogey Disease?" wondered Luna as she rolled her _Quibbler _into a tube and looked out the window at the passing countryside through it.

"Who knows…Huh?" said Harry, perplexed at Luna's newest revelation, "What's that?"

"Battling Bogey Disease? Well, it's not really a disease, but more of a contagious hex," she said as she continued her scan of the countryside, " It caused your bogies to come alive and start fighting each other. The resulting confusion tends to make the host forget things, like going to the right train car, or that your underwear goes on before your trousers." Harry, Ginny and Neville just stared at her.

"Uh, just a thought, but did your Dad tell you about this disease?" asked Harry very gently. Luna's father ran _The Quibbler_, which was not known as a bastion of journalistic integrity.

"Yes, he did! Did you read the ten part series he ran on it this summer? It seems the Ministry of Magic has been importing the Giant Invisible Snorklepuss in from Brazil to deal with the renegade Dementors and to use as crowd control in the event the wizarding world gets into a panic over The Dark Lord and the Death Eaters. Battling Bogey Disease seems to have been brought in with them. The Ministry denies this, of course," she said, finally putting her paper back in her lap.

"Of course," Harry agreed, as he gave Neville and Ginny a smile.

"I think it's because Malfoy does what he wants to do, and hang anyone else!" snarled Neville, much to everyone's surprise. No one had ever seen Neville in that type of mood before. He sat back and crossed his arms, a strange crinkling noise coming from within his robes.

"What was that?" asked Ginny, somewhat surprised. Harry wondered if a Giant Invisible Snorklepuss had invaded their compartment.

"Uh…er…that was me," stammered Neville, reddening slightly, "That's another reason my summer wasn't the best. Gram found my collection of gum wrappers. I had a devil of a time keeping her from throwing them all away."

Harry nodded in understanding. The gum wrappers were the only thing Neville ever got from his parents ever since he was a small child. Death Eaters had captured both of his parents and driven them insane using the Cruciatus Curse, so the wrappers were near and dear to him.

They continued to visit for several minutes more when they heard a loud commotion coming from the front of the car. Neville went pale, but much to Harry's surprise, he didn't run. He stood and placed himself between the door and Luna. Neville stood there, shaking, but stood his ground.

A noise, not unlike that of a charging elephant, sounded closer and closer as it traveled down the corridor. Neville balled up his fists and planted himself, readying himself for the worst. Harry, impressed and somewhat alarmed at his friend's actions, began to stand to back Neville. Suddenly, the source of the noise became apparent.

"Harry!" yelled Ron as he grabbed the handle of the door to keep from shooting past, running as fast as he was. "Oh, hi Neville!"

"Ron! What's wrong?!" asked Harry urgently, visions of an injured Hermione flashing through his mind, as Neville went totally white and appeared ready to faint on the spot.

"Wrong? Not a bleeding thing!," replied Ron as he looked strangely at Neville, "Sit down, Neville, before you fall down!"

"He was afraid you were Malfoy," explained Harry as Neville sat back down next to Luna, who looked at him with admiration as she handed him a glass of water, "Been rumors he's been wanting to do Neville a bit of harm."

"Not a bit surprise, I am, " said Ron, trying hard to suppress a smile, "he's in just a bit of a foul mood! You'll never believe it! Malfoy's…"

"Ron!" puffed Hermione as she finally caught up with him, holding a stitch in her side, "Would you _please_ slow down?! You'd have thought you were being chased by Aragog, the way you moved! Are you _that_ eager to gloat?!"

"Well, yeah! You bet I am!" replied Ron as he stepped aside to let her in the compartment, then ran his fingers through his hair, "Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting for something like this? That slimy little git…"

"What?" asked Ginny as she moved closer to Harry, who by this time had sat back down , to let Ron take a seat.

"I've been waiting just as long as you have, Ron," said Hermione reprovingly, "but we are not supposed to delight in the misfortune of other, no matter how much they deserve it!"

"Who?" begged Neville, desperate to hear any bit of good news.

"Aw, come on, Hermione! Let me have my moment! After all, I was burping up slugs for days because of that git, for you! Come down off your high horse and enjoy it! It won't kill you! It couldn't have happened at a better time!" expounded Ron, as Hermione did her best to suppress a grin. She was obviously trying _not_ to enjoy the news, but rather unsuccessfully.

"You're not the only one to suffer at his hands, though, Ron!," Hermione retorted once she had all traces of the almost-grin gone, "I'm the one who ended up with teeth the size of cricket bats…"

"Yeah, but you were the one to give that snotty little dung ball a good shot in the teeth!," replied Ron, grinning as he saw the cracks in her armour beginning to show.

"RON!!" barked four voices, as one. Ron's head snapped around to the others, who looked at him in exasperation.

"Well?" Hermione urged, "are you going to tell them or not?"

"What? Oh! Right!" Ron said, coming once more to life as a grin plastered itself upon his face, "This is great! You're never going to believe it!"

"I think you've already said that bit," quipped Harry, slightly amused at his friend's enthusiasm.

"I'm beginning to think Ron's lost his mind! Get on with it, you prat!" snickered Ginny, who then stuck her tongue out at her brother when he shot her a dark look.

"Okay, okay!" Ron said hurriedly when the others began pulling their wands out, "Draco Malfoy is no longer a prefect for Slytherin House!"

"What?!" exclaimed Harry, Ginny, and Neville as Luna began staring out the window through her magazine once more.

"It's true!" Hermione cut in, "he and Pansy Parkinson both! It seems their actions last year have come back to haunt them!"

"Conduct Unbecoming of a Prefect!" gloated Ron with obvious glee.

"Unbelievable!" said Ginny, beaming.

"That's great!" exclaimed Harry, "That will knock him down a peg or two! The idea that he could hold any sort of power over us drove me crazy last year!"

"Too right!" Neville chimed in, "That must explain his foul mood, and why he's looking for his favorite target!"

"Don't worry, Neville, we won't let anything happen to you," added Ginny reassuringly. The others nodded in agreement.

"He wouldn't dare," replied Hermione, "not with two prefects here, watching over you!"

"Care to make a wager on that, Mudblood?" a malicious voice dripped acidly from the open doorway.

"You had better watch yourself, Malfoy," snarled Ron as he spun around to the door, "You're already in enough trouble as it is!"

"Threatening another student on the train is a serious offense, Draco," Hermione chimed in, "you may not get expelled, but you may just lose Slytherin a rather large number of points when you are reported."

"Are _you_ trying to threaten me, you little filth?" Malfoy spat back. His girlfriend, Pansy Parkinson, was standing there, behind him, for support. His goons may not have been with him, but he would not back down in front of his girl.

"Why don't you just go sulk elsewhere, Malfoy," said Harry dismissively, waving him off, "it's beginning to smell in here! Under the train, perhaps?" Malfoy's ears went red as Pansy gasped at the way Draco had just been spoken to. In a flash, Malfoy had his wand in his hand and pointed it at Neville.

"_Accio toad_!" shouted Malfoy, as Neville's pet, Trevor, shot out from within Neville's robes, and into Malfoy's waiting hand.

"Trevor!" screamed Neville as he lunged for his toad, but was too late to catch it.

"Give him back, Malfoy!" shouted Harry as he reached for his own wand, then stopped as Malfoy pointed his wand menacingly at the captive amphibian.

"Now, now, Potter, none of your heroics," sneered Malfoy, a nasty look of glee on his face.

"You've done it now, Malfoy," Ron said with authority, "Either give Trevor back to Neville, or I shall report you to your Prefect, and to Professor Dumbledore!"

"Don't even try to threaten me, Weasel-Droppings," Malfoy barked back, "_I've_ done nothing wrong! I merely wish to exterminate this vicious beast that leapt out and tried to attack me! Unless Longbottom wishes to accompany me and…_discuss_…the situation." Malfoy grinned a most horrid grin.

"You're a filthy liar!" Ginny screeched, "Even Professor Snape will find it impossible to believe you were attacked by a toad!"

"Shut you're mouth, you little tart!" Pansy yelled over Malfoy's shoulder, "We burn trash, not talk to it!"

"You're awfully brave with your girlfriend here," Luna's airy voice called out, as she worked the crossword in her copy of _ The Quibbler_, " but there are six of us, to only two of you. Normally, you probably would be calling for your father to come fix things, or have your pet gorillas intimidate us. Right now, you're probably ready to soil you knickers."

Ron cut loose with a gut wrenching belly laugh, as a snicker escaped everyone else's lips. Harry could have swore he saw steam coming out of Malfoy's ears at Luna's candid observation. Malfoy twisted his face in rage as he glared at each of them in turn. He did not like being the butt of everyone's laughter.

"Right then!" growled Malfoy, "Say goodbye to the toad! I've been wanting to try this one, I'm sure Longbottom will appreciate this one: _Cruc_…"

"Give the toad back to the Gryffindor," a deep male voice called out from behind Draco and Pansy, causing Malfoy to stiffen slightly before turning around toward the voice.

"_Accio Trevor_!" commanded Harry, causing the poor, confused toad to fly from Malfoy's grasp and into Harry's hand. Malfoy growled and pointed his wand at Harry.

"Put the wand away. Now, Draco!" another voice, this one female, called out.

"Bugger off!" yelled Malfoy as he aimed at Harry, " _Stupe_…"

"_ Expelliarmus_!" shouted Harry, a fraction of a second before Malfoy finished his own curse. Malfoy's wand flew forcefully from his hand and hit Pansy Parkinson squarely between her eyes, leaving a big red mark. Tears welled up in her eyes, then started running down her cheeks, as she did her best to stifle a sob. A full force charm like Harry's packs quite a punch.

"You don't know who you're dealing with!" snarled Malfoy as he turned toward the faceless voices once more, "You both shall regret speaking to me like that!" He bent down to pick up his wand, and saw it was missing.

"I doubt that, Draco," the first voice called back, "You may be Snape's fair haired boy, but I refuse to allow a Slytherin to act this way! You make the rest of the House look bad, you and your cronies!"

"You two had best get back to your seats, and come to see us once we get back to Hogwarts," the female voice said "We have your punishments to discuss. You'll get your wand back when we reach Hogwarts." Pansy slid from view as Malfoy turned back to Harry and the rest, giving Ron and Hermione a particularly nasty look.

"This isn't over yet, scum!" he hissed softly, as a hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him from the doorway, pushing him down the hall.

"Yes it is" said the tall young man who ducked into the compartment. Harry was a bit astonished to see him wearing Slytherin robes, to which was pinned a Prefect's badge.

"All right there, Ron?"

"Yeah! Great!, Thanks, Angus!" replied Ron with a smile, "better you deal with Malfoy than us! Snape doesn't care for Hermione or me too much!"

"Snape doesn't care for anyone, too much," laughed Angus, "How's the toad?"

"I'm alright," replied Neville, his eyes downcast.

"I meant Trevor, Neville," said Angus gently, aware of the eyes of the others set upon him.

"Oh!, He's okay, thanks!" replied Neville nervously, as he eyed the new prefect with suspicion.

"Oy! Angus! Budge over!" the female voice behind him called out.

"Huh? Oh! Sorry, Gabby!" Angus replied as he stepped further inside, revealing a stunningly beautiful young lady, with long golden hair that seemed to shine of it's own light.

She and Angus were a study in physical opposites: He was tall, and heavy set, with dark skin and jet black hair pulled back into a severe tail. His face looked slightly hooded and sinister with the exception of his eyes, which shone with an inner light and smiled as much as his lips. She was a bit short, with a body proportioned like a Greek goddess, blonde with fair skin, and with a smile that seemed to light up the entire car. The both of them looked vaguely familiar to Harry.

"Folks, let me introduce the new Prefects of Slytherin House. This tall chap is Angus MacIver, and the lovely lady is Gabrielle O'Connor," announced Ron as he introduced the rest of the group to the Slytherins.

"Are you both sixth years?" asked Neville, still just a bit cautious, "You really don't look too familiar."

"No, actually, we're seventh years," replied Gabby, "we watched you get sorted your first night, Neville." Her easy going attitude and smile instantly warmed Neville.

"We've never stood out too much, well, I haven't " Angus added, as he grinned at Gabby "we were normally in our common room or in the library studying, most of the time."

"Trust me, we never ran with Malfoy's crowd, " Gabby said with a smile that melted Neville's heart. Luna shot her a worried look. "Don't worry, Neville, he won't be bothering you for the rest of the trip."

After visiting for a bit longer, Angus and Gabby excused themselves, but reminded Hermione and Ron that they needed to patrol the train once more before they arrived at Hogwarts.

"Wow! They were actually nice," Ginny said with wonder as Hermione and Ron got up to leave.

"Even with Malfoy screaming all sorts of vile threats at them, they never lost their composure," Ron added.

"When did Malfoy do that? It wasn't just now," asked Ginny, an eager look of anticipation on her face.

"This morning, right after we got on the way," Hermione replied, trying to keep a smirk off her face, "All the prefects went to their car, and we were all a tad surprised to see Angus and Gabby sitting there."

"After introductions and such, we all sat around and started discussing the coming school term," Ron said, continuing the story, "when that prat…er…I mean Malfoy, walked in, fashionably late, and acting as if he owned the place."

"He wasn't happy to see Angus and Gabby there," Hermione added, "and he tried to dismiss them, then he saw their badges." Hermione was unable to suppress her grin.

"I thought he going to have a stroke, Malfoy, when Angus handed him the letter demoting he and Pansy. Turned redder than my hair, Malfoy did!" laughed Ron at the memory, tears of joy streaming down his face. It was obviously a moment in time he would cherish his entire life. Harry and the others laughed at this.

"To top it off, Angus was made Head Boy, the first time a Slytherin has been in ages!" Hermione said, "This seemed to make Malfoy even more upset!" Harry was truly impressed now, Professor Dumbledore would not have made Angus Head Boy if his character was dodgy. This spoke well of him indeed.

They all stayed together after Ron and Hermione departed for the rest of the trip to Hogwarts. Harry bought out the Snack Trolley when it came around, so they sat back, relaxed, laughed and celebrated the demise of a hated foe as they consumed massive quantities of Chocolate Frogs, Cauldron Cakes, and various other treats. Harry got the distinct impression that Luna was watching Neville with a dreamier look than normal, confirming what he was thinking earlier of how Luna felt about Neville. Of course, she may have only been impressed with the way Neville stood between her and Malfoy earlier in the trip, when he acted as a human shield of sorts. Harry hoped it was the former and not the latter.

It's about time Neville stood up to Malfoy, Harry thought, even if it was under the guise of standing up for someone else. Soon, the excitement wore off and drowsiness set in. Neville and Luna looked cute together, leaning up against one another, napping the trip away. Looking down, Harry saw Luna had wrapped her hand around Neville's. Harry smiled, then felt a slight weight against his arm, Ginny had fallen asleep against him. Filled with warmth, Harry put his arm around Ginny and drifted off into a very pleasant sleep.


End file.
